


The Time In Between

by TheEndOfEverything



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Burning Classic Literature for Warmth, Canon Compliant (Mostly anyway), Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, Rare Pairings, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombie-Killing as Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25133515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEndOfEverything/pseuds/TheEndOfEverything
Summary: On a dark night in the middle of nowhere, Madison and Althea meet (in the most-complicated sense of the word). Some days or weeks later, Madison reunites with Alicia, Nick, Strand, and Luciana. But what happened in the time in between?Set entirely within s04e08, No One's Gone.
Relationships: Althea/Madison Clark
Comments: 50
Kudos: 26





	1. My Aim is True

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 starts in the moments before Madison ambushes Althea, and then it picks up again as they're parting ways.
> 
> This is my first fic... Please be nice if you leave a comment!

Althea shivers as she zips up her jacket and pulls her warm gray beanie a little further down over her ears. Sure, she’s in Texas, but it’s late evening in November in Texas. She’s found the perfect place in a wooded area to set up camp for tonight, at least, if not the next few days. Her patented wire-and-bottles motion detector with inner tripwire perimeter has been assembled and tested. As much as she loves interviewing other survivors and exploring new places, her favorite moments in life lately are these – the quiet ones, with just the sound of her campfire to accompany her thoughts.

She peels the paper wrapper part way off the top of her cup of noodles (kimchi, her favorite - acquired in an amazing stroke of luck one day in Oklahoma) and carefully ladles some of the water that’s been boiling over the fire into the styrofoam cup, stopping at the line. Some things don’t change just because the world ended.

Al drops the ladle back into the chipped enamel cooking pot, and, holding the cup of noodles below her chin, closes her eyes and inhales the steam. It had been an incredibly long day, and all she can think about is finally eating some food, rolling herself into a blanket burrito in the back of her van, and passing out.  But of course, that is not what happens.

Moments later, the distinct metal click of a handgun breaks through Al’s thoughts, followed by a woman’s voice, firm but with a very noticeable note of apprehension.  _ “Hands where I can see them. Don't turn around. I don't know you, but I saw your vehicle. Gives me a pretty good idea what you're capable of. You don't know me, either. And you're not going to. But that little meaningful click should give you an idea of exactly what I'm capable of. So, toss me your keys.” _

Al closes her eyes and exhales the breath she’d been holding in, mentally preparing herself for an evening of conflict instead of soup and sleep.

* * *

* * *

A few hours and a minor head injury later...

_ “Consider it a down payment,”  _ says Al, returning the woman’s gun. _ “Tell me the rest of your story when you find them. I move around a lot, so, maybe we meet again. No tripwires, no guns.” _

Neither woman moves right away and for a few long seconds they’re just staring into each other’s eyes. The blonde ends it with a nod of her head and a pensive smile. Even in the dim light coming from the van’s interior light, Al can read the exhaustion, anxiety, and loss on the woman’s face, and finds herself thinking that it only adds to her beauty. 

Al climbs the stairs to the back of her SWAT truck, and watches the woman disappear into the night with the flats of noodles, her handgun balanced on top. After hearing the woman’s truck’s engine roar to life, Althea pulls closed the giant doors.

Once inside, Al goes through her bedtime rituals. She latches the back door and makes sure her rifle is loaded and leaned up next to it. She checks the front doors and discovers that the driver’s side door wasn’t closed all the way. This is exactly why she always checks. She clicks on the LED lantern she’d found in an abandoned campsite the previous week and remembers she needs to return to her own campsite in the morning. She turns off the interior lights of the van to preserve the battery.

The van now secure, Al swaps out her boots and clothes for a pair of sweats and the ratty old Tegan and Sara hoodie she’s had nearly forever. She momentarily wonders if they’ve survived.  _ Nah, they’re definitely dead, just like everyone else. _

Aching and nearly asleep on her feet, Al finally climbs into her bed – a bunch of blankets and sleeping bags laid out on one of the two rows of seats in the back of the massive vehicle. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, she’s freezing, and her head is killing her. She probably shouldn’t be going to sleep, but it’s not her first head injury, and likely won’t be her last, so she takes her chances. As her makeshift bed warms up, her shivering subsides and is replaced by the unrestful sleep that has plagued her since the dead began to walk.

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_ Less than an hour after falling asleep, Al is jolted awake by the sound of pounding on the back door. 

“What in the actual fuck?” she mutters, instinctively rolling over to grab her push dagger, which had already saved her ass once tonight. She extracts herself from her bed and shoves her feet into her boots. The pounding repeats, followed by muffled yelling.

Al knows exactly who is pounding on her back door in the middle of the night. It’s that woman. The one with the kids with the bird. The one who’d threatened her, shot her soup, hit her in the head, tried to steal her van, did steal her tapes. The blonde with the troubled expression and striking green eyes. They’d parted on good terms and mutual understanding, but Al still recognizes just how terrible an idea it is to let this woman in. But then there was that meaningful gaze they’d shared before the woman left…

Maybe that’s why Al makes the choice she does.  _ What the hell am I doing?  _ she asks herself as she unlatches the door. Cautiously pushing the door open a crack, weapon in hand, heart beating out of control, she peers out into the moonlit night. As expected, here she is, with a sheepish smile on her face and her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her jeans. 

“I thought maybe you wanted some company,” the woman says in a deadpan voice. Gesturing down to Al’s knife she adds, “but I might be wrong about that.” She puts her hands in the air. “I have my gun holstered on my belt and a knife stashed in my left boot. You can take them both.”

In one smooth motion Al reaches for the gun hanging from the stranger’s hips with her left hand and reaches down with her right to pull the knife from her well-worn brown boot. She motions with her head to get inside the van quickly. “You made enough noise out there and I’d rather not deal with any more surprise guests tonight. Those are your only weapons?” Al goes to the front of the van, intending to stash both knife and gun behind the driver’s seat, but she thinks twice, and heads back with the knife to put it near her own rifle in its spot near the rear door. Just in case.

The woman unties the laces on her boots and loosens them, but leaves them on. She sinks down onto the seat that’s not covered with Al’s blankets. Feet on the floor, she puts her elbows on her knees and drops her head down into her hands, running her fingers through her tangled locks. “Go ahead and make yourself at home,” Al says, without bothering to hide the minor annoyance in her voice, “Why exactly are you here?”

“This is going to sound a little hard to believe,” the woman begins, “but I only got about a mile down the road before I realized how badly I needed to pull over and sleep.”

Pacing back and forth in the small aisle of the van, Al nods and smirks a little. “It’s tiring work, trying to ambush someone.” As casual as she’s trying to act though, Al is completely on edge. She knows the smart thing to do is to keep her eyes on the stranger, but keeping her eyes on the stranger is feeling incredibly uncomfortable. Instead, she drops down to the floor next to the safe and pulls out her boxes of tapes, which are a mess, thanks to her visitor’s earlier antics. She fiddles with them, organizing them first alphabetically and then chronologically, as the other woman speaks.

She gives Al a remorseful smile and looks down to see what she’s doing on the floor. “I’m sorry about your tapes.” She clears her throat and moves on with her story. “So I pulled off the road, turned off the engine, hit the dome light so I could get ready for bed. Less than a minute later, the light went out. Tried to start the engine… nothing. I’m pretty sure my battery is dead.”

“So you walked all the way back here in the dark, in the middle of the night, hoping someone you barely know would let you into their highly-coveted moving fortress.” Looking up at her, Al raises her eyebrows and gives her uninvited guest a skeptical look.

“You put it that way, it sounds a lot less sensible than it did in my mind. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, and--” she smiles tentatively, “I figured you’d be willing to help me out. But I thought if I waited until morning, you’d be gone. So I took a chance, and here we are.”

Al looks back down at her tapes. As is her tendency, she attempts to diffuse the tension with some poorly-timed humor. “So, what you’re really here for is to get me to jump you?” She looks up at the other woman again out of the corner of her eye to gauge her response.

“I mean, if you’re offering, I probably wouldn’t turn it down,” the woman replies. Her voice is expressionless, but her eyes dance and one corner of her mouth turns up a little.

“Never offered. This was  _ your  _ idea.” Al’s tone is still snarky, but a little quieter.

“If that’s the case, then maybe I’m asking.” The woman raises her eyebrows and stares her down.

Al’s mind races, assessing the situation at hand. It had been _a_ _while_ since she’d so much as kissed another person - such a long while that the last time it happened, people were still staying dead when they died. To be honest, she’d given up on the prospect of finding anyone she’d even _want_ to kiss in this new reality. Does she want to kiss this woman? Absolutely, one-thousand per cent, oh god, yes. 

But then again, a few hours ago she’d held this woman at gunpoint. Shortly before that, the other woman had held  _ her  _ at gunpoint. Sure, she had told her an incredibly personal story, but Al has been interviewing strangers long enough to know that a personal story and her finding herself in another dangerous situation are not mutually exclusive.  _ And also? _ she concludes to herself, feeling like the boring adult in her mid-thirties that she kinda is, _ I’m exhausted. _

Al rips her eyes away from the older woman’s and is horrified to find herself blushing. Like, noticeable-in-the-dim-lighting-of-the-van level of blushing. She pushes her bangs out of her eyes and a nervous laugh escapes her lips.

Feeling incredibly self-conscious, she changes the subject. “Okay, um. You can sleep on those seats where you’re sitting, and in the morning I’ll drive us to your truck and we’ll jumpstart the battery. Easy peasy--”

“--lemon squeezy.”

“I always sleep over on that side.” In her head she adds, _stop saying awkward shit, Al. And share your blankets!_

She gestures to the mountain of bedding, pauses for a moment, and then pulls out a sleeping bag. Her warmest one, with the plaid flannel lining. Bunching it up in her arms, she walks it over to where the stranger is now standing and holds it out to her. As she passes over the bedding, Al’s hands make unintentional contact with the other woman’s, and pulls back as if she’s touched fire, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. But neither moves from the other right away. 

“Thanks,” murmurs the woman, still making no move to get her bed ready. She keeps her eyes on Al’s and they’re like magnets. Al is powerless to resist their pull, and she feels herself leaning in toward the other woman over the armful of slippery nylon fabric. Al stops a few inches short of their lips meeting.

“Don’t mention it.” She pulls away with a slight smile, holding her gaze until the woman breaks it.

Out of the corner of her eye Al sees her guest gingerly take off her dusty black leather jacket and toss it on the seat. Underneath she’s wearing a thin black button-down shirt that has seen better days, but somehow still looks fantastic on her lean torso. She turns her back to Al while she unbuttons and removes the shirt, inadvertently revealing a dark purple bruise that starts on the back of her right shoulder, travels across her upper back in a diagonal line, and ends somewhere under her camisole, below her left shoulder blade. Al feels like a creep, but it’s a small space they’re sharing and there are limited places she can look. Wants to look. Yes, even with the nasty bruise.

Of course she gets caught, so she busies herself rummaging through the upper compartments above her bed. From one she pulls out a first aid kit. From another, she pulls out two bottles of water. Al shakes out three tablets from her near-empty bottle of ibuprofen for herself and then holds up the bottle and rattles it. “You look like you could use some of this, too.”

“You’re very observant,” the other woman replies dryly. But she looks at Al with gratitude and changes her tone. “Thanks. Again.”

Al grins at her and tosses to her first the ibuprofen and then one of the waters. She grabs one last thing for the stranger - her camping pad. The seats in the back of the van are metal benches - not the most comfortable place to sleep even when not in pain. She lifts the sleeping bag and slides the pad underneath it.

“Sweet dreams,” she says quickly, hustling away to check the doors of the van one more time - first the rear door, and then the ones up front. Returning to the back, she sees that the woman has already passed out. 

In sleep, her face looks softer and more at peace than it did when she was awake. After a minute, Al realizes she’s still standing over this stranger, staring at her face while she sleeps. She lets out a low sigh, and returns to her own side of the van.


	2. But she lies, tells me she's just fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though Al never learns Madison’s name, I’m using it in the narration because it was super tedious trying to write this without using a name for her character!

Al wakes to the metallic patter of rain on the roof and the faintest amount of light streaming through the high windows of the van. She rolls over from her side onto her back and is hit by a wave of pain. Her whole body aches, especially her head. Probably due to getting slammed to the floor and knocked out cold last night. 

Al pushes her hair out of her eyes, running into a sizable, blood-crusted bump on her scalp above her right temple. She pulls her hand away, sucking air in through her teeth at the sharper pain that has now joined the dull ache. At least her hand is blood-free... the wound isn’t actively bleeding.

She glances over at the stranger. The SWAT van is spacious, but feels tiny with the presence of an unfamiliar person, and her face is only a few feet from Al’s. She’s laying on her stomach with her head resting on her right arm, left arm dangling over the edge of the seat. She’s uncovered by the sleeping bag from the waist up, and her tank top has ridden up to expose a few inches of her lower back. Thankfully, she is still asleep. Al isn’t ready to talk to anyone yet this morning.

She sits up and slowly pushes herself into a standing position, but as the room starts to spin she grabs onto one of the van’s steel support beams. Closing her eyes, she sinks back down onto her bed. A groan escapes her lips, and the sleeping woman stirs.

“Morning, Sunshine,” she murmurs. Then she sees Al sitting on her bed with her head in hands. “You ok there? How’s your head?”

“It really hurts. I was gonna go look at it in the rearview mirror but the van started spinning so I sat back down.” She attempts a smile. ”I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad—”

“—But it is definitely my fault,” Madison says with a sigh. She rolls over and sits up, pulling her tank top down over her midriff and unzipping herself from the sleeping bag. “Can I come take a look?”

Al signals her consent with a slight nod of her head. Madison crosses the aisle and sits on Al’s right side. She folds her left leg up onto the seat beneath her and leans close to Al so she can get a better look in the dim light.

She carefully pushes Al’s hair aside to find the wound. It’s not hard to locate, considering its size and the way Al recoils when she first touches it.

Al hasn’t been touched by someone who wasn’t trying to hurt her in a very long time. Despite the pain and the weird circumstances of their meeting, she is savoring the closeness of the other woman’s body and the fingertips gently touching her scalp. “It’s not bleeding now, but it definitely did last night. Doesn’t look like it needs stitches… I do want to clean it up a little, though, if that's ok with you.”

“Please, clean away. What were you, before everything went to hell? A nurse?”

“High school guidance counselor, “Madison smiles, a little sadly. “But also a mom. Where’s your first aid kit?”

Al points above them. “Up there, third compartment from the left… it’s a black bag.”

The woman gets up and finds the bag and a fresh bottle of water. She pulls gauze pads out of the pack and twists the lid off the water.

“When she was little, my daughter was absolutely fearless. Anything her older brother did, she had to do faster and better. When she was twelve, she jumped off a friend’s roof, onto their trampoline, trying to land in their pool and ended up in the ER instead.

“Tilt your head this way. I want to get the dried blood off. Do you have an extra t-shirt or something?”

“In the blue duffel under the seat.”

Madison bends down to unzip the bag and pull out a black t-shirt. “Ok if I use this one?”

Al gives a slight nod. “It’s fine… I’ll just make a Big Stop run later,” she mutters, getting the amused smile from the other woman that she was hoping for. She closes her eyes as she feels water run over the right side of her head. Madison keeps the shirt under the wound to prevent the blood-tinged excess from running onto Al and herself.

“I don’t know how I did it, but every single time I’d go there for two small things and walk out having spent over a hundred dollars. God, remember shopping?” Madison sighs and goes back to her story as she uses the t-shirt to gently clean Al’s hair and scalp. 

“After she recovered, I signed her up for our city’s junior roller derby league, so at least the risk-taking was more contained.  We’ve always had a rough relationship. Now I can see that we’re a lot alike, but before? I could never figure out how to relate to her. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough. I was a great counselor, but I did a shit job as a mom… one kid I could barely talk to, another with a heroin problem. Ironic, right?

“Anyway… all that to say that I have some experience treating wounds.”

“It’s fine. I’m a journalist… I like hearing everything about everything. Even when the camera's off.” Al winces as Madison flushes the wound with water and begins to use the gauze to clean directly around it.

“I know you’re in pain right now, but the cut itself isn’t bad, and I think the swelling will go down soon. Water, ibuprofen. Here.” She hands Al the half-empty water bottle and then fetches the ibuprofen bottle from the floor where she left it last night. She shakes out double the recommended dose and frowns as she looks inside the bottle.

“Better add ibuprofen to your Big Stop list.”

This makes Al chuckle softly. She closes her eyes as Madison continues to run her fingers through her hair, avoiding the injured area. “Mmmm, “she says softly, “that feels soooo much better than you hitting me.” She jokes, but if she was a cat she’d be purring.

Madison laughs awkwardly as she removes her hand from Al’s head and sits back, putting some space between them. “What about the rest of you? Everything operational?”

Al considers this. “I’m sore, but I’ll be okay. We’ve gotta get you on your way, right?

“Right,” says Madison. “Got a map? I want to try to pinpoint where I left my truck.”

“Glove compartment.”

Madison makes her way to the front of the van and drops down into the passenger seat. “This is nice!” she calls back at Al. Why didn’t I sleep up here last night?”

Al snorts. “You think I’m gonna leave you alone up there while I’m asleep? I’ve been known to make poor decisions but I’m not  _ that  _ reckless.”

“Fair.”

Shakily standing, Al takes advantage of the relative privacy to get herself ready for the day.  Jeans, a white ribbed undershirt, and a navy blue flannel button-up shirt, which will probably be too warm to be wearing within an hour. Her gray beanie to cover the hot mess of her head. Fresh socks. Boots.

She opens up the back of the van. The rain has stopped and the world smells fresh, and she feels a little better just breathing it in. After checking for dead, Al wets her toothbrush with bottled water and sticks it in her mouth. She pulls it back out and yells to her companion, “Hey, if you want to brush your teeth I have an extra toothbrush…”

Madison practically clamors over the metal box that sits between the front seats. “That’d be great.”

“Look in the same duffle that my shirt was in. I grabbed a whole pack on my last Big Stop run. I’m not joking… it actually was a Big Stop in Abilene I raided for supplies a few months back.” She jams the toothbrush back into her mouth and hands the toothpaste to a laughing Madison.

“Before all this happened, I never would’ve been so excited to brush my teeth.” Madison puts toothpaste on her brush. “You really know how to treat a lady.” she adds, her tone a mix of flirtation and sarcasm that Al adores.

Al takes a swig of water, rinses, and spits it out over the edge. Turning back to Madison, she raises her eyebrows and asks, matter-of-factly, “So… you wanna make out?”

Madison shoots her a withering look. Al pretends she doesn’t see it and goes back into the van to clean it up a bit before they jump Madison’s truck and go their separate ways, possibly forever.

20 minutes later, Al parks the MRAP nose-to-nose with Madison’s dusty Ford-350 – a vehicle that would look enormous next to any other except hers. She grabs the jumper cables and climbs out of the cab, moving slower and more deliberately than usual. She’s still a little sore and her head aches a bit, but it’s nothing compared to how she felt when she first woke up.

She’s about to climb up on the front bumper to attach the cables to the battery of her massive vehicle, when Madison comes over and grabs her arm. “Are you kidding me? An hour ago you got dizzy and almost fell while walking around the van. I don’t want you getting hurt again on my account. Hand over the cables.”

“Nah, it’s ok, I—”

Madison stops her mid-sentence by giving her a  _ look.  _ That  _ look _ that only a person who dealt with teenagers for a living can give. Al has been out of high school for more than 15 years, but there’s no way she’s going to do anything except for exactly what this woman tells her to do. She hands over the cables.

As Madison is fiddling with the hood, there’s a rustle in the foliage nearby. Al turns her head in time to see three of the dead emerge. “Incoming… I’m on it!” she yells.

She grabs her trench knife off her belt and makes her way over to the closest one, shoving her hand against its chest to hold it away from her while she jams the spike through its cloudy eye. It goes limp and she yanks out her weapon as it falls to the ground.

“You ok? Need help?” Madison calls from the front of the van.

“One down, two to go. I’m good!” Al replies, but she’s feeling a little lightheaded.

She takes down the second walker the same way as the first, but then the third walker trips over the second, launching itself directly at Al, knocking her down onto her back. She cries out and scoots backward on her butt, but the creature isn’t letting go of her legs, its teeth chomping air as it moves itself toward her torso, hoping to bite her next. Al curses herself as she realizes her knife is no longer in her hand.  _ Of course _ she drops her weapon now, of all times!

She manages to work her left leg free and is trying to get her foot in between the walker and herself, when suddenly the walker is yanked backwards off of her. Madison jams her knife into its skull and flings it to the ground to the right of Al. She wipes the blade on the grass, sheaths it, and offers Al both her hands, pulling her to her feet. She gives her a quick once-over and grabs her upper arms. “You’re ok? How’s your head? What happened?”

“Yes. A little dizzy. And walker number three tripped over walker number two and lunged at my legs. I dropped my knife when I fell.”

Madison spots it a few feet away and retrieves it. “How’d you manage to drop this?” She asks, examining the grips that should have kept the knife in Al’s hand.

“No idea.” Al tries to sound casual. It’s not like it’s her first time coming this close to getting eaten by former humans, but it’s still unnerving. Three walkers in daylight should not have overwhelmed her. “I might be a little off my game today,” she admits.

Madison studies her face. “Okay… there’s a protein bar in the glove compartment of my truck. I want you to go sit in there and eat it while I get the jumper cables set up.”

“I don’t wait in the—” Al starts.

“GO.”

Al does what she’s told, which isn’t like her at all. She doesn’t wait in the car, and she definitely doesn’t take orders. But here she is, doing both.

The protein bar is chocolate and it’s completely stale, but she eats it anyway as Madison attaches the jumper cables to both vehicles.

Moments later she appears in the open window of the truck. “I feel bad asking after last night, but c an I get your keys?”

Al pulls the chain holding her keys over her head.  She hesitates for a moment, pretending to consider whether or not to give her the keys, but grins and tosses them to her. Moments later she hears the van roar to life.

Madison opens the passenger side door to the truck and gets in next to Al. “Alright, we’ve just gotta let your big baby run for a few minutes.”

Al turns toward Madison and offers her the last few bites of the protein bar, which Madison accepts. “And then you’re off to find your kids.”

“Yeah. I know I’m close. I… have to keep telling myself that, anyway,” Madison admits.

Al looks forward and nods her head. “I really hope you find them soon, and that you find a place you want to call home.”

“Thanks. I’m real sorry that we met the way we did.”

“We all make bad choices. Some of them we regret forever. Others are bad, but something good comes out of it.” Then Al’s earnest expression cracks into a grin. “No hard feelings about the beat-down. I’m glad we met.”

Madison lowers her eyes, shakes her head, and laughs silently. “You’re really not going to let that go.”

“Probably not! It’s a good thing you’re about to leave.” Al grabs Madison’s hand and squeezes it. She’s actually feeling the opposite. Madison looks at her, and Al’s heart beats a little faster.  _ This can’t all be one-sided _ , she thinks.  _ If she didn’t need to be in such a hurry to get out of here... _

Madison exhales as if she’s been holding her breath and pulls her hand away to dig the truck key out of her pocket. “You promised me a jump… let’s do it.” She hands the key to Al.

Al shoves the key into the ignition and turns. Instead of roaring to life, the only thing they hear is the clicking of the starter. “This isn’t good.’ She tries again. Clicking, then nothing.

Madison curses as she throws open the door to the truck. By the time Al gets out, Madison is already up on the bumper of the van, checking the connection. Al checks the truck’s as well. She peers up at Madison, noticing behind her that the clouds are rolling in again. “Everything looks ok on my end… you?”

Madison jumps down, a look of pure frustration on her face. “It’s fine up here, too. We’ll try it again, but I’m thinking the battery is just dead.”

A few minutes later they’re sitting in the truck again, having concluded that the battery is indeed dead. “Alright… what’s next?” Al asks Madison from the passenger side. “Actually, hold that thought. I need to go shut off the van before it runs through the whole tank. It’s getting so hard to find diesel these days.”

Al feels the first drops of rain on her head as she opens the door of the truck to climb back in. “It’s starting to—” she stops as she sees what she’s interrupted. “—rain.”

Madison’s head is tilted back against the seat. Her eyes are closed and tears are streaming down her cheeks. Her chest is heaving with irregular breaths.

If there’s one thing Al would have guessed about Madison without knowing her, it’s that she’s not a frequent crier. Neither is Al, and she isn’t quite sure how to approach her. She weighs her options. Leave her alone? Tell her everything is going to be okay? Ugh, definitely not that. Always overly dismissive, but it rings especially false now. Things are rarely ok these days under the best of circumstances.

She moves across the bench seat closer to Madison, proceeding with caution. She tentatively puts a hand on Madison’s shoulder, half expecting it to get shoved away.

Instead, the opposite happens - Madison kind of collapses onto her. Al wraps her arms around the sobbing woman, and Madison buries her face in her neck. Al rests her chin on top of her head and pets her hair as she feels her tears soaking through the collar of her shirt. She holds her tightly until she feels the blonde start to pull away.

“Jesus, I‘m sorry. I don’t know what the hell that was,” she says, wiping her face on her sleeve. “This is not like me at all.” The tears keep falling, and she keeps brushing them away.

Al shrugs and again takes one of Madison’s hands in her own. “Hey… I get it. You’re in a really shitty situation. You thought you were about to go find your kids, and instead you’re stuck. You’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out. I'm here to help."

Madison shakes her head. “I’m just so sick of everything being so fucking complicated. My truck won’t start. What used to be a small problem is now a big one, with a chance of being eaten alive. And  _ every aspect of life is like this. _ ”

“Exactly,” Al replies in commiseration. “To be honest, I’m not sure why those of us who are still alive aren’t just crying all of the time. And I say that as a fellow non-crier.”

Al squeezes Madison’s hand again and this time Madison doesn’t pull it away. They sit in the truck, so close their outer thighs touch, looking out at the worsening rain, pretending everything is normal and okay for just a few minutes.

The rain is coming down in sheets now, and the women get considerably wet in the short amount of time it takes to grab the jumper cables and get themselves into Al’s van.

“Alright, so what are we doing? Al asks, taking off her beanie and unbuttoning her soggy shirt in the rear of the van. “Want a dry shirt?” She drapes hers over the driver’s side seat and hunts down a relatively clean plaid flannel, tossing it to Madison without waiting for an answer.

Madison peels her wet shirt off her arms. Al turns around and busies herself finding her sweater as Madison is pulling her camisole off over her head.

“How’s your head feeling?” she asks.

“Not sure… I haven’t accidentally touched it in a while.” Al pulls her crewneck sweater over her head and the neckline comes in contact with the wound. “Ow! Except I just did.”

Madison finishes buttoning the plaid shirt, which Al notices looks about a thousand times hotter on the other woman than it ever has on herself.

“Come here. Let me look at it.”

Al takes two steps across the tight space of the van and is face-to-face with Madison. She’s at least three inches taller than her. She looks down at Madison and smirks.

Madison rolls her eyes. “Okay, smart ass. Now sit down so I can see it.” Al sits down on the row of seats where Madison slept the night before. Madison puts down a knee so she can lean in close. 

“This feels like deja vu,” Al comments.

A smile flickers on Madison's face as she examines Al's head. “No new blood… swelling’s going down. I think you’re gonna live.”

“Hope so.”

Al lifts her face and looks into Madison's eyes. This time, neither woman looks away. Madison’s hands travel away from the wound. She runs the fingers of one hand through Al’s hair and the other travels down to trace her jawbone. Their faces are inches apart.

Al’s heart is beating out of her chest as she clocks the desire in Madison’s eyes and the way she’s biting her lower lip, just a little.  _ Nope… definitely not one-sided,  _ Al concludes. Her entire body is screaming to feel Madison’s touch. She surprises them both when she reaches up for the nape of Madison’s neck and pulls her down to meet her lips.

The kiss goes from soft to insistent almost immediately, their lips and tongues communicating their hunger for each other. Within moments Madison’s hands are on Al’s shoulders, pushing her down onto the makeshift bed. Her lips trail down Al’s neck as she starts to push up her sweater. Al shifts so Madison can pull it off over her head, followed by her undershirt. She expertly navigates the buttons on Madison’s shirt with one hand, already trying to pull it off of her with the other. She runs her hands down Madison’s torso, running them under the waistband of her jeans, and then up her back to unhook her bra and slide it down her arms. They both laugh as Madison works on ridding Al of her sports bra – the most awkward-to-remove piece of clothing ever invented. 

Madison tosses it onto the floor with the rest of their clothing and sinks back down onto Al, running a hand slowly up Al's inner thigh toward the closure of her jeans. Al instinctively pushes herself into the pressure of Madison's hand, but then forces herself to put a hand on Madison's forearm, stopping her.  She pulls her mouth away from Madison’s and murmurs into her ear, “Hey, I just wanna check… are you sure you’re cool with this right now? It’s been kind of a weird morning. I don't want you to do anything you'll-”

Madison moves to unbuckle Al’s belt as she cuts her off. “I already cried, it’s pouring rain, I haven’t come up with a plan yet. I’m good for now. So just shut up and let me fuck you.”

Once again, Al does what she's told.


	3. There's nothing here but that's okay

An hour later the rain has calmed down, and Al reclines lengthwise on the seats with Madison leaning back against her, in between her legs. Al buries her face in Madison’s hair, trying to savor the fleeting closeness they’re sharing. _She’s leaving as soon as she can. She needs to find her kids. I’m on my own, the way it’s always been. I like it like this._ Al tries to keep these truths in the forefront of her mind, even now in the afterglow.

Fighting off any desire for companionship is something Althea has gotten good at over the years, to the point where she’s almost convinced herself that love is something she neither wants nor needs. In the several years she spent as a war correspondent, she attempted a long-distance relationship exactly one time. It had ended in a tear-soaked phone conversation mere days after Al had escaped a hostage situation. After having her heart broken by the girl she’d loved most in the world, in the moment when she needed her the most, she just didn’t see the point of trying again. She definitely doesn’t see it now. _Just enjoy the moment for what it is,_ she reminds herself.

Al uses her fingertips to trace over the long diagonal bruise that is now fully visible on Madison’s naked back. “How’d you get this?” she murmurs into Madison’s blond hair. It’s far from clean, but Al loves it anyway.

Madison laughs softly. “Nothing very exciting… a few days ago I was scavenging in a storage facility. Broke into this unit that had one of those huge metal doors that rolls up. I managed to lift it and used a chair to hold it up. Turns out I wasn’t alone in there, and I ran into the chair when I was trying to escape. It fell over, and the door came right down on my back. I’m surprised I made it out alive.”

Al gently kisses her shoulder. “When I make my documentary that’s gonna be the title: _I’m Surprised I Made it Out Alive: Risky Living in the World of the Dead.”_

Madison guffaws. “You’ll credit me, right?”

“I would… if I knew your name.” Al raises her eyebrows, a hopeful smile playing on her lips.

“No names, no details, remember?” Madison teases.

Al wraps her arms around Madison. “Then I guess I’ll just have to hunt you down before it hits the indie film festivals.” She plants kisses on her jaw, and Madison turns her head and briefly connects her lips with Al’s.

Turning her upper body toward Al, Madison gives a satisfied sigh and smooths Al’s sweaty bangs back from her face. “Alright, hot stuff… as much as I’d rather spend the rest of the day in bed with a beautiful girl, I think we need to put some clothes on now,” Madison says reluctantly, untangling herself from Al.

“But you look _so good_ without anything on,” Al protests, hugging her from behind. “And feel so good. And taste so good,” she adds, pressing her lips to Madison’s neck one last time. “But you’re right.”

The women slowly reassemble their outfits, and Al digs around for something to eat. She comes up with a can of pears and a bag of stale-but-edible trail mix. It’s not enough, but it’s better than nothing.

“So,” Al says, forking up a piece of soggy fruit, “I ditched my pot and cooking tripod when I went after you last night. I’m hoping we can pick them up on the way to wherever we’re going, now that the rain is stopping.” She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. “Have you thought of any ideas about what we should be doing next? To get you on your way?” She hands the fork to Madison and holds out the can, trading her for the trail mix.

“Well, so far all I can come up with is either finding a new battery or finding a new vehicle.” Madison chews thoughtfully. “Replacing the battery in the truck I have now is preferable. The engine’s been running well, it’s got 4-wheel drive, feels solid. But what’s the chance of finding the right battery and it still having some juice in it?”

“Maybe we’re looking for a new truck, then?”

“But then I’m thinking about how picked clean all the highways have been getting,” muses Madison, “It seems like all that’s left are the crashed ones and the dead ones.”

Al nods and pops a few peanuts in her mouth. “There’s a lot of abandoned properties… one has to have a truck that’s still running, or a battery that’ll fit in yours. It’s an F-350, right? I think that’s a possibility.”

“Yeah, it is,” says Madison, noncommittal. “It’s definitely worth a shot.”

Madison grabs the map, and they come up with a plan to start combing the area for abandoned ranches. “Okay if I write on this? It’ll help if we can keep track of where we’ve been, if we don’t find anything right away.”

Al tosses Madison a pen. “It’s all yours.”

“There. On the left.” Madison points to a split in a wire fence with a dirt road leading off into the distance. Al hits the brake a little too hard so she can make the sharp left turn through the opening. Madison lurches forward before nearly falling out of her seat toward the center console.

Al smirks. “Told you to wear your seat belt. But are you okay?” she adds, still driving a little too fast down the muddy driveway.

“Your driving is terrible… worse than my daughter’s when she first got her learner’s permit.”

“Hey, cut me some slack! I was a journalist, not a truck driver. I drove a RAV-4 before shit went down… when I was in the States, at least.” Al chuckles to herself. “Put your seat belt on next time.”

As they see a silo coming into sight over a small hill Al hits the brake, a little softer so Madison doesn’t go flying again. The view that meets them at the top is the opposite of what they were hoping to see.

Instead of an abandoned farm, there are acres of charred remains. The silo stands out in stark contrast to the blackened ground around it, which is littered with debris. Part of the farmhouse’s chimney and some of its brick foundation still stands, along with a few support beams of what used to be a barn. Nearby are the burned-out frames of a handful of vehicles and tractors.

“Well, at least there aren’t any of the dead wandering around,” Madison comments. She sighs, and pulls her seat belt across her body and clicks in. “Hang on a minute... I want to mark this off on the map.” 

The next two farms are more of the same. At the third, they get out to stretch their legs. Al knows they don’t have much more time in the short November day, but she gives in to her compulsion to take a quick look at the ruins.

“Not that I’m an expert in burnt farms, but these don’t look like your normal accidental fires. Everything is TOO burnt. Usually there’s a lot more left.” She grins and adds “I know we need to take off, but I’m not gonna pretend I’m not dying to know the story behind the burning.”

Madison rolls her eyes at the inquisitive younger woman but seems amused. “You’ll have to investigate that later, Veronica Mars. Let’s get going.”

Madison sighs as she climbs back up into the passenger side of the MRAP. She picks up the map from her seat and draws an X on the spot on the map where they most likely are. “I don’t understand how I got so reliant on technology that wasn’t even invented until a few years ago,” she complains. “I think we’re about here?”

“I’d _kill_ for Google Maps right now,” says Al, a note of frustration rising in her voice as well.

“We’ve both done a lot of killing, and yet we have no Google Maps,” replies Madison, “So I don’t think that’s going to help us.”

Al looks over at Madison. “That joke was so stupid I can’t believe it didn’t come out of _my_ mouth.”

“Thanks… I think,” replies Madison. She gestures for Al to come closer and they look at the map together. “Let’s try going north, away from the city. Maybe we’ll have more luck if we get out further into the country.”

“Sounds good to me,” says Al, starting up the van. As she shifts into gear, she looks at Madison out of the corner of her eye. “By the way, I’ll remind you that I’m a journalist… not a teenage wannabe private eye.”

By the time they’re about to pull away from the fifth destroyed farm, Al can clearly see the disappointment and frustration that has settled on Madison’s face. Turning toward Madison and catching her hand in hers, she says gently, “I think we need to stop for the night… we don’t want to be setting up camp in the dark. Is that okay with you?”

Madison sighs, but nods.

Al leans over to look at the map again. “Where are we now?”

Madison jabs the tip of her pen right through the center of an X. “We’re here. Or are we, actually? It’s hard to know.”

“Okay, well… we’ll be a lot _less_ sure if you destroy the map.” Al coaxes the map from Madison’s hands and folds it back so she can take a closer look. She points to a blue spot on the map not far from their current location.

“We are camping here tonight. Navigate me, please.” She tosses the map into Madison’s lap and hits the gas before she can argue.

Al anxiously taps her fingers on the steering wheel, letting her poor decision-making sink in. Just ahead of them is a pristine lake, and they’re surrounded by tall trees. A perfect spot to camp for the night… if it wasn’t teeming with the dead. But before she can say a word about finding a new spot, Madison has her knife out and is leaping out of the MRAP.

“Fuck,” mutters Al, grabbing her own weapons, “I guess we’re doing this.”

Madison is on a rampage, and by the time Al kills her way over to her, there are already at least eight bodies on the ground. “I guess you like the spot I picked!” Al yells over the snarling of the monsters surrounding them.

“I really need to wash my hair,” Madison responds as she rips her knife out of a rotting head. “I’m not giving it up.”

Working together, the women obliterate the thirty or so walkers in record time. The more dead Madison kills, the more her mood seems to lift.

As the last walker hits the ground, Madison wipes her blade on the wet grass and turns to Al, her face euphoric but spattered with blood. Breathing heavily, she says, “I really like the spot you picked." With that, she sheathes her knife on her holster and struts down to the water’s edge.

“It’s getting cold!” Al shouts at her back, “The water’s gonna be freezing! And you’d better hope there aren’t any more walkers in there!” Without turning around, Madison sticks up her middle finger and bends down to unlace her boots.

Al races into the van and grabs her travel kit. She reaches the edge of the lake just as Madison is tossing her last bit of clothing onto a rock and wading into the water.

“Kill corpses, get rewarded by washing their blood off yourself in a beautiful lake,” Al quips as she parks herself on a boulder and kicks off her boots. “I’ve got something for you.” She takes out a small bottle of shampoo and throws it to Madison.

“Have I mentioned how amazing you are? Thank you.” She catches the bottle easily. “The water’s cold, but you should come in anyway. Just for a few minutes.”

She flips open the cap and squeezes some of the shampoo into her palm. “Mmmmm, coconut.”

“You sound like those shampoo commercials from the 90s. The orgasm ones. Remember those? My mother was horrified by them.”

Madison laughs and rubs the shampoo into her hair, tossing it and moaning for added effect.

Al scans the area for walkers. “I don’t know if we should both be in the water at the same time.” But she strips down to her underwear and lowers herself into the chilly water anyway. Refusing to be completely unarmed, she grabs her knife and its sheath from her holster and tucks it under one of the shoulder straps of her bra.

She shivers as she wades out to Madison. “It is _so cold,”_ she complains, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re crazy.”

Madison dunks her head in the lake water, rinsing out the suds. “Nah, just sick of being filthy all the time. Come here.” Madison reaches out for Al’s waist and pulls her closer to kiss her. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It absolutely is.”

Madison smiles and nods in agreement. She gestures toward Al’s knife. “That’s clever.”

“Safety first,” replies Al. Then they both laugh at the absurdity of the statement, considering they’re washing their hair in an ice-cold lake after killing dozens of people who were already technically dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend who did some editing for me didn’t get my Veronica Mars jokes. If you’ve never watched VM you absolutely need to. And for those of you who weren’t alive/sentient in the 90s, the [orgasm shampoo commercials](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zeOolmpUGcI) mentioned were for Herbal Essences. Like Al’s mom, my mother also hated them.


	4. I'm not gonna get too sentimental

“So much for not setting up camp in the dark,” Al remarks as the last bit of sun fades away. She sticks her flashlight between her teeth and starts stringing wire between two trees, lugging around the cardboard box of bottles that serve as walker alarms each night.

“At least it’s not raining.” Madison is attempting to build a fire. “Hey, do you have anything I can use for tinder? Everything out here is too damp.”

Al finishes securing the wire and retreats into the back of the MRAP. She pokes around, trying to decide what can be sacrificed. She grabs her dog-eared copy of _Farenheit 451_ by Ray Bradbury and heads back out. She grins and tosses the book to Madison. “I read this so many times as a teenager that it’s permanently embedded in my brain. Might as well let it go out in a blaze of glory.”

Madison reads the cover and chuckles. “This is just a bit ironic.” She yanks pages from the book and crumples them. Crouching down, she tucks them under the layers of kindling and larger branches and strikes one last match. This time she successfully gets a little fire going.

Soon they’re seated on the back steps of the van, guarded by wires and bottles, eating noodles out of cups with beef jerky on the side.

“Should we talk game plan for tomorrow?” Al gulps some of the salty-sour liquid from her cup.

Madison grimaces. “How are you just drinking that?”

Al grins. “I know! It’s totally gross. But it’s so good.”

Madison can’t help but laugh a little at the quirky younger woman. She slurps up her last forkful of noodles and nods thoughtfully. “Tomorrow… I guess the same as today. We hit more abandoned farms and hope they haven’t been burned to the ground. And just keep our eyes out for cars on the road along the way. Got any better ideas?”

“Nope. I really wish I were more help. I’m sorry it’s taking this long. As much as I don’t want you to leave…” Embarrassed at her sentimentality, Al busies herself, first by stacking the empty noodle cups, and then by hopping down from the steps to mess with the dying campfire with a stick. The smoke makes her eyes water, and she wipes them on her sleeve. She can feel the other woman’s piercing blue eyes boring holes into her back.

“Just remembered something I was gonna get in the van,” Al says, launching herself up the steps past Madison and inside.

_Get a grip, Al. You’ve known her for twenty-four hours. Maybe twenty-five. You’ve taken care of yourself for years, and you’ll be fine when she leaves._

_And it’s probably going to happen tomorrow._

_And then you’ll be alone again._

_Fuck._

She takes a few deep breaths and rummages around in the myriad of compartments.

Madison’s eyes light up when Al reappears, a bottle of whiskey in her hand. Unexpected alcohol was one of the few pleasures left in the apocalypse. “I was wondering what you were digging for in there.”

“I’ve been saving this,” says Al, screwing off the cap and offering the bottle to Madison. “I’m glad to not be drinking it by myself.”

Madison takes a swig from the bottle with a blissful look on her face, and passes it back to Al. She puts her arm around the slim brunette’s waist, resting her hand on her hip. “The pleasure is all mine.” She pulls Al in for a kiss.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure some of it’s mine, too,” Al murmurs, tasting the whiskey on Madison’s lips and going in for another kiss before tipping the bottle to her own mouth. She savors the initial burn of the whiskey and the gentle warmth starting to ripple through her brain.

“Now,” Al says, bringing out her journalist voice, “what can you tell me about the killing spree you embarked on earlier this evening?” She drinks again, passes the bottle.

“Wanna go get your camera? Just kidding – please don’t.” Madison takes another drink. “Anyway… you'd found the perfect spot to camp in and I didn’t want to give it up,” she says nonchalantly.

Al snatches the bottle back and drops the journalist voice. “Ha! You were out of the van so fast that half of them were already dead by the time I got my seatbelt off! It was like you were in a video game.” She passes the bottle.

“Oh, yeah,” Madison says, a smile playing on her lips. “I guess that was dead-killing as stress relief. It’s like going to a kickboxing class to blow off steam after work.” She drinks and hands the whiskey off to Al. “Only bloodier and more dangerous.”

Al grins. “Okay, but also? The more you killed, the happier you looked. By the last one you had this look of exhilaration on your face that was _definitely_ not there when you started.” She pauses as she takes a drink. “It was pretty hot.”

Madison raises her eyebrows and grabs the bottle back. “Hot? Even with the blood spatter?”

“Especially with the blood spatter.” Al tries unsuccessfully to keep a straight face and they both laugh.

They sit in silence, holding hands and looking out at the night sky. It’s cold and clear, and the stars are the only light since the campfire is just glowing embers at this point. Al feels more at peace than she has in a long time, but it’s short-lived.

“I feel so bad, being with you.”

Hearing this, Al feels her heart break a little bit, despite her long-held commitment to emotional stoicism. She looks at Madison for some sort of explanation.

Madison sees the confusion in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. That came out the wrong way.” She kisses the knuckles of Al’s hand. “I have a metric ton of guilt hitting me right now. Because I’m feeling so good being with you, but my kids are out there and I have no idea if they’re okay. They don’t know if I’m okay, either. I just… feel bad about being happy right now, here, with you. Does that make sense? I’m sorry.”

Al takes Madison’s hand in both of hers and turns it over. She lightly traces the lines in her palm with her fingertips. “It makes sense and I’m sure I’d be feeling the same way if I were you. It’s not about me.

“But, how would you feel if you could find out that right now, they’re safe, warm, doing something besides trying not to die?”

Without hesitating, Madison replies, “I’d feel relieved.”

“Without actually knowing them, I would guess they’d answer the same way about you. I absolutely don’t want to add to you feeling bad, and also, I try to keep to keep my feelings to myself but I’m not sure what the point of that is right now, and I want to tell you how fucking happy I am that you’re here, no matter why you’re here, or how you got here. These days, there’s way too little joy for any of—”

Al’s done talking, because suddenly Madison’s hands are grabbing her jacket to bring her closer and her mouth is on hers and she stops being able to think of words anyway, which is fine because the words that’d been coming out of her mouth didn’t make much sense anyway. She sets the whiskey down and grasps the other woman’s hips before sliding her hands up under her leather jacket and the shirt underneath, running her fingertips up and then down Madison’s sides, making her gasp and shiver.

Madison pulls her lips from Al’s. “We gotta take it when we can get it, right?” she breathes into Al’s ear. She stands, catching the other woman’s hand in hers and heads into the van.

Inside there’s a mad dash to get each other naked as fast as humanly possible while still staying connected at the lips. Al wins and, still wearing her jeans, navigates Madison down on her back onto one of the rows of seats.

Too early the next morning Al jerks awake, momentarily forgetting why she’s so close to the edge of the bed and whose breath it is tickling the back of her neck. Remembering, she covers the hand splayed across her chest with one of her own and relaxes back into Madison. She sure as hell isn’t going to be the one to initiate getting the day started.

Soon enough, Madison wakes, pulling Al back even closer against her and nuzzling her neck. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Al brings Madison’s hand to her lips and kisses her fingertips.

“Hey,” Madison repeats back to her. “Come here.”

Al smiles. “I _am_ here.”

“Mmhmm, but I want to kiss you.”

Al carefully turns over, nearly falling off the bench in the process. Madison grabs Al’s hip, anchoring her against her own body, and Al loops her free arm under Madison’s and holds onto her shoulder. It’s awkward and a little uncomfortable, but Al couldn’t care less about that when Madison is very sweetly kissing her forehead and cheeks.

“You taste like pussy,” Al murmurs against Madison’s lips when they reach hers.

“Babe, I’m not sure what you think _you_ taste like right now…” Madison replies, her own lips barely ceasing contact with Al’s.

“Wasn’t complaining. It’s a nice reminder of how many times you made me come last night,” she says, gently biting Madison’s lower lip. Madison moans directly into her mouth, digging her fingers into Al’s hip and shoving her thigh up in between her legs. She shifts their bodies so the brunette is laying on her back and most of her own weight is on her, establishing a rhythm that makes Al’s mouth drop open and her eyes close.

Al knots the fingers of one hand in Madison’s blond hair, guiding her mouth back down onto hers, trailing her right hand all the way down Madison’s torso to slide two fingers inside her.

Madison comes first, rocking against Al’s hand and crying out into her neck. Sensing that the younger woman is on the verge of coming as well, Madison drags her lips down her body and uses her mouth to send her over the edge. As Al comes down from her orgasm she sits up and pulls Madison’s face up to kiss her deeply.

“Do I still taste like pussy?” Madison asks, smiling against Al’s lips.

Al kisses her nose. “Yeah, you do.”

Madison snorts and pushes Al’s bangs back from her face, kisses her forehead. She reaches down and grabs a blanket from the pile on the floor, and spooning Al, pulls it over them. “I just need to lay here with you for a few more minutes,” she says in Al’s ear.

Al closes her eyes, a sleepy smile on her face. “Let me know when you’re ready to get up… I have coffee.”


	5. I'm just floating

“I think that’s a driveway coming up on the right. Do you see it?” Al points it out, adding with a smirk, “I’d tell you to slow down but I don’t think that’s actually possible.”

Madison turns right, maneuvering the SWAT van under a rustic archway with “Double R Ranch” painted on it.

“You know, I’m already starting to regret offering to drive this morning,” Madison replies, leaning over to lightly punch Al on the arm.

Al swats her hand away with a snicker and switches her focus to the old clapboard house and handful of barns and outbuildings that are coming into view. “Check it out… not burned, lots of places a truck could be hidden. Maybe our luck is about to change.”

Madison drives around the back of the largest metal barn until she finds a door and parks the MRAP next to it. Both women automatically check the ammo in their guns and holster them.

“Are you okay if I go check out the house for supplies really quick? I took the last of the ibuprofen with my coffee this morning, and I don’t think the headaches are going to be gone for a few more days.” As Althea asks this, she’s already climbing into the back of the van to grab her empty canvas rucksack.

Madison looks skeptical. “Are you sure you want to split up?”

“I don’t want to waste time… we already got kind of a late start. It’s a small house, and I’ll come find you in a few minutes. It’ll be fine.”

“Alright… please be careful.”

“Safety first, right?”

“Somehow you saying that that doesn’t make me feel any better.” Madison presses her lips together into a concerned half-smile.

Al gives her a lopsided grin and heads off down a dusty path toward the house. It's a beautiful day. The sky is free of clouds, it's only a little chilly, and there's the gentlest of breezes. For a moment Al thinks that maybe she should find a place like this and stay put for a while. But then she remembers that the other, more restless side of her would be screaming and clawing to get out within a week. Besides, between the increasingly desperate living and the herds of the dead, staying put is a recipe for disaster.

On the front porch of the house Al looks in all the regular spots where people used to hide spare keys, finding this one in an obviously fake rock in a pot housing a cactus that is still somehow alive. She opens the front door cautiously, pounding on it with her fist and kicking the frame with her boot in order to rouse any walkers that might be hanging out inside. It’s always safer to kill them up front rather than be surprised from behind while digging through a cupboard or drawer.

No corpses come staggering out, so Al heads in, closing the door behind her. The downstairs consists of a small living room, dining room, kitchen, a bathroom, and a staircase that must lead to the bedrooms.

Since her top priority is pain relief, her first stop is the bathroom. She finds an economy-size bottle of ibuprofen and a smaller bottle of children’s acetaminophen in the medicine cabinet. Leaving the acetaminophen, she tosses the ibuprofen in her bag along with half a tube of antibiotic cream, a bottle of peroxide, and a brand-new tube of toothpaste.

In the kitchen she finds bags of pasta, rice, and beans that still look edible and a few unexpired cans of fruit and tomatoes. All of it goes in her bag, which she cinches and hauls back onto her shoulders. She pulls out her gun just in case and heads up the narrow stairwell to the bedrooms.

The landing is small, with what she guesses is a closet in front of her and bedrooms to the left and right. The whole upstairs is carpeted in a light cream, and Al instinctually feels a little bad about the dirt she must be tracking in on her boots, even though it’s likely no one will ever notice or care.

She pokes her head into the room on the right first. A children’s bedroom, with a crib and a twin-size bed, both neatly made. There’s a rug printed to look like a city atop the carpet, and it’s littered with wooden blocks and toy cars. The walls are sky blue and some loving adult had painted fluffy white clouds on them. Painted in cursive above the bed is  _ Jacob, _ and above the crib,  _ Lauren _ .

The room unexpectedly fills Al with sadness. She hadn’t been a parent or even an aunt before the fall, and had never really wanted to have kids of her own. Everyone had lost _something_ in the apocalypse – but the thought of it happening to little kids just killed her. At least Al had gone to school, made friends, learned to ride a bike, played the guitar and soccer, finished college, fallen in love (for a minute, anyway), and was successful in her career before things fell apart. If she died tomorrow, she’d have a full life to flash before her eyes. Wherever they were, Jacob and Lauren were either already dead or experiencing something not much better.

Al had left any semblance of belief in a god back in her own childhood, but she finds herself saying a silent prayer for these babies as she backs out of the room and closes the door softly behind her.

She crosses the landing to the other bedroom and rifles through the dresser drawers for the essentials – socks, knives, firearms. She tosses a few pairs of socks and a pocketknife in her increasingly awkward bag and hikes it up onto her back, tightening the straps a little more. She digs through the bedroom closet, hoping to add to her collection of winter clothing. And what can she grab for Madison, since she has basically nothing with her? There’s not much of interest in there, but maybe the hall closet has coats or blankets or something.

Thinking about Madison’s impending departure sends Al straight into her feelings as she distractedly leaves the bedroom and opens the closet door on the landing. She’s immediately snapped back into the moment by the two tiny corpses falling at her. Small, reanimated corpses, one so young that it might not have even learned to walk before it turned. Before  _ she  _ turned.  _ Lauren. _

It only takes a glance to know that the older child had turned before the younger. Although his body has wasted away, his skin is for the most part intact if not a putrid shade of gray. The baby, however, is clothed in what’s left of a bloody, ripped onesie and is missing huge chunks of her abdomen and most of a leg.

Al has killed hundreds, if not thousands, of walkers, but these two leave her frozen. Because of their size they shouldn’t be as dangerous as fully-grown dead adults, but her innate hesitation to harm children, even dead children, makes them twice as deadly. Al feels like she’s going to vomit as tiny baby hands grab at her lower leg and the older child goes for her thigh. She jumps into action, pulling the preschooler away from her leg by the back of his shirt and pushing him backward as hard as possible as she reaches for her gun. 

The next minute is a blur. Al gets the safety off and raises her gun at the little walker as it lurches toward her again with vacant eyes and snapping jaws. In the same moment, there’s the sound of breaking glass downstairs, like, a lot of breaking glass. Whether it’s from surprise at the unexpected noise downstairs, the kickback from her gun, the weight of her backpack, or the feel of the baby’s mouth trying to break through her pant leg, Al finds herself falling backwards, trying unsuccessfully to grab onto the railing of the stairs. The narrowness of the stairway and the bulkiness of her rucksack keep her from falling  _ too  _ fast, but it still feels like there are eighty steps and she hits her head on every single one of them. 

Sprawled out on the ground floor, Al doesn’t black out right away, but everything is hazy. There’s a burning smell coming from… she can’t place the direction. Maybe it’s all the directions. She’s not sure if she still has bones in her body because she can’t really feel them. Why is it so warm in here? Her eyes sting and she can’t see much. Her head hurts again. There’s a baby and it’s dragging its way toward her. Why is there a baby? What the hell is she supposed to do with a baby? Ah, shit. It’s missing part of its face and is gnawing on the left sleeve of her jacket.

Al wills herself to move her right arm and manages to get her trench spike out of its sheath on her holster. She swings in the general direction of the baby walker, missing its head entirely and almost stabbing herself in the arm. She raises her arm to try again and the knife clatters to the floor. Deciding she needs to get some sleep before she tries again, Al closes her eyes.

The last thing she remembers before losing consciousness is a pair of hands, adult hands, grabbing onto her arms.


	6. I can't stand to see you this way

_ Jackpot. _

The huge barn is exactly what Madison had been hoping to find. Not only are there multiple vehicles inside, there’s also a wall of spare parts. Four trucks, two of which are the same make and model as Madison’s. She figures there has to be a working battery in one of them or on the wall. She’d just climbed into the driver’s side of one of the trucks to look for keys when she heard it.

The sound of breaking glass, closely followed by a single gunshot. A few voices yelling outside. A car zooming away.

Madison immediately jumps out of the truck and runs out of the barn just in time to see the tail end of a black SUV drive into the distance. She races for the house.

Madison’s heart drops at what she sees as it comes into view. Smoke is pouring from a few windows, and a figure dressed all in black is pulling something away from the house. What had Al been wearing that morning? Nothing black… she’d been wearing jeans and an olive green jacket. As she gets closer, she can see that the something being dragged is a person, and that person is definitely clothed in olive green.

She pulls her gun from her holster and approaches quickly but cautiously. The person in black is a teenage boy, and he looks terrified.

“Did you shoot her?” Madison demands, frantically.

“No! I don’t even have a gun!” he insists, “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone!”

Her priority being Al’s safety, she lets it go for the time being. The kid  _ did  _ just pull her out of a burning building, after all.

Madison helps him drag Al further from the house. She can see flames rising inside as the smoke increases and darkens.

“This is far enough. Take off her backpack,” Madison directs, dropping down to her knees next to Al’s motionless body. She checks her pulse, which is weak but present... for now, at least. She turns her cheek to Al’s face to see if she’s breathing and she’s not. Madison’s mind flashes back to the handful of times she had to resuscitate Nick in the years he struggled with addiction. She shakes it off, refocuses on Al, takes a breath, and places her open mouth over Al’s. Out of the corner of her eye she watches Al’s chest rise and fall with each breath she gives.

Madison is just starting to feel lightheaded when she feels Al starting to retch. She pulls away and rolls her over on her side, and Al immediately vomits the entire contents of her stomach onto the ground. Then the coughing starts. Al’s eyes flutter open but don’t focus, and then they shut again. Madison uses the palm of her hand to gently but firmly tap Al on the cheek.

“Nope… wake up. You’ve gotta stay awake,” she insists. Al’s involuntary response is another coughing fit, which turns into dry heaving. The heaving turns into sobbing and then back into coughing. Blood oozes from her scalp and trickles down across her forehead. Her nose looks especially bad – potentially broken, bleeding steadily.

Without taking her eyes off Al, Madison pulls off her leather jacket. She turns to the boy and demands, “Look in her backpack for something I can use to stop the bleeding.”

Once her coughing subsides, Madison rolls Al onto her back again. She folds her jacket and, with care, lifts Al’s head and shoves the jacket underneath so the blood from her nose isn’t draining down her throat. As she quickly assesses the visible damage, it crosses her mind that what might have been a minor injury when emergency rooms still existed could very easily be fatal now. Not to mention problems she wouldn’t be able to even see. Concussion? Internal bleeding? Lung damage? All possibilities. “It’s okay… you’re gonna be okay,” she tells her, completely unsure if that’s true.

In addition to the new gash on her head, Madison sees that Al’s injury from two nights prior is bleeding again. Her normally beautiful face is already pink and swelling in a few spots. Besides being covered in blood from her head and nose, she’s also bleeding from a few smaller cuts and abrasions. Madison zeroes in on the head wound again, parting Al’s short hair, wiping away some of the blood with her fingers to get a better idea of its severity.

Madison sees Al open her eyes again. They look pink and watery, but it seems like she’s able to focus them now. Al’s mouth opens to say something, but Madison stops her. “Shh, it’s okay,” she repeats quietly. She gently touches the small part of Al’s face that’s not covered in blood or bruises.

The kid holds out a pair of socks he found in the bag, and Madison folds them into a compress and places it on the gash on Al’s head, applying pressure. Al flinches and cries out in pain. “Babe, you’ve gotta stay still right now. I know it hurts.

“Good call on the socks,” she jokes quietly, trying to keep the worry out of her voice.

“I got the ibuprofen, too,” Al croaks in response. She starts to cough again and tries to sit up.

Shhh… stay down. We really need to get your head to stop bleeding and then we’ll deal with the rest of you.” Madison cringes at her horrible bedside manner as Al’s eyes open wider with worry. She finally stays still, though.

Madison says to the boy, “The bleeding’s slowing down. Are there more socks in there? Get them, and come put some pressure on this so I can take care of her nose.”

Madison shifts over to make room for him to kneel near Al’s head and she leans down to get a better look at Al’s nose. Al opens her eyes a little and manages a tiny smile, until Madison brings a clean sock to her nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding. She breathes in sharply and squeezes her eyes shut. “Is it broken?” she mutters, starting to cough again.

“Honey, I know you really love to talk, but I  _ really _ need you to stop trying. It's making you cough and that makes the bleeding worse,” Madison insists. She pauses, then adds, “I’m really not sure about your nose.”

Madison looks worriedly at the burning house, still feeling like they’re way too close to it. If it explodes or the fire spreads, or attracts the dead, they’re going to have an even bigger problem. She knows she needs to get the MRAP so she can move Al somewhere safer.

She waits another few minutes until she's sure Al’s head has stopped bleeding and that her nose has slowed down. “I need to go get our van,” she says to the kid, “Don’t let her talk or get up. I’ll be right back.”

He nods, an anxious look on his face.

Madison takes off running toward the barn, not fully trusting him, but not seeing another solution either.

Minutes later, Madison chuckles when she sees the look on the boy’s face when she pulls up in the giant MRAP.

“How is she?” she asks, jumping down from the driver’s seat.

“The same. So. Um. Who are you? Like, are you a cop or something? Are you gonna kill me?”

Al, who has been very laying still and silent, is amused. She snorts and then groans in pain.

“High school guidance counselor. And probably not,” Madison replies easily, heading around to the rear of the van to open the doors. “You’re going to help me get her in here and get her comfortable. And then you and I are going to chat. What’s your name?”

“Tyler.”

“Ok, Tyler. Stay with her another minute.”

Madison pulls the camping pads off the seats and quickly makes a bed in the aisle of the van, where Al will have more space and no risk of falling. 

When she comes back, she kneels down by Al. “We need to get you into the van, but I want to check and make sure nothing’s broken first.”

“Everything hurt and nothing was beautiful,” Al mumbles, closing her eyes again.

Madison cracks up, thankful that Al is not only able to recall a line from a book, but to twist it to apply to her situation. “Misquoting Vonnegut… I think that’s a good sign.”

She runs her hands over Al’s limbs, gently bending each joint. Both her legs and her left arm are sore, but not broken or dislocated. She yells when Madison picks up her right arm.

“My wrist.” She mumbles once Madison has lowered it to the ground.

“Ah! Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Doesn’t feel broken. My ribs do.”

Madison sighs. “Let’s check it out. I’m going to unzip your jacket.” She does, and gently traces her fingertips on Al’s torso. Only when she touches her bottom left rib does Al yelp. Madison apologizes again. “I think it’s just this one that’s… bruised? fractured? Broken? I’m not sure. Can I help you sit up?”

Al gives a slight nod. Madison slips an arm under Al and maneuvers her into a sitting position. Al immediately slumps forward, resting her head on Madison’s shoulder. Madison runs her hands gently over Al’s back.

“How’s that feel? Any bad spots?”

“No. It all hurts the same. God I’m so dizzy,” adds Al, before she starts coughing again, triggering the pain in her ribs. “Damn it.”

“We’re going to get in the van in a minute. Let’s take your jacket off first,” Madison says to Al, gently pulling the garment first off her left arm, and then easing it over her injured right arm. Somehow, she remembers how to turn it into a makeshift sling from a first aid class she took years ago.

“Alright, Tyler… help me get her up.” 

Together, they get Al into the van and onto the bed that Madison made in the back. Tyler sits with Al while Madison drives a couple of miles down the main road before pulling off. She kills the engine, pockets the keys, and heads into the back. She addresses Tyler with serious high school guidance counselor energy.

“I’m not done with you yet. Go sit up front and wait.”

Madison pokes around the back of the van, finding a bottle of water and a t-shirt that looks somewhat clean. Is anything sterile anymore? Probably not. She kneels down near Al’s head and uses the moistened cloth to clean up Al’s face.

“I think maybe I got bit,” Al says weakly, once it’s just her and Madison.

“What?!” Madison realizes she has absolutely no idea what had actually happened.

Al closes her eyes and tries to take a deep breath, but just ends up coughing. Madison waits for her to finish.

“There were two. Little ones. Is it still a walker if it only crawls?” She stops to cough. “The crawler was trying to bite my arm but I don’t know if it-” more coughing “-even had teeth yet. I tried to stab it but I dropped my knife.” She has a full-on coughing fit before continuing. “The bigger one was biting my leg.”

“Biting, or trying to bite?” Madison asks, trying to stay calm, scooching down toward Al’s legs, running her hands over the fabric of her pants. “I don’t see any blood or rips on your pants… was that the gunshot—"

“Yeah.” Al blinks back tears. And coughs some more.

“We should talk about this some more later.” Madison squeezes Al’s good hand.

“Yeah.”

Even now with the blood cleaned off, Al’s face is a mess. Madison decides not to mention it to her. She twists the lid off the bottle of water and hands it to her. “Gonna be ok if I leave you alone for a bit? Want help with your boots first?”

“Please.”

Madison removes Al’s boots and covers her with a plaid wool blanket. “You should try to take a nap. I’ll wake you in a couple hours to check on you. How’s your pain?”

“Eh… I’ve been better. But also been worse. I’ll try to sleep.”

Madison squeezes her shoulder and heads up front.

“Alright, Tyler. Your turn. Who are you, and what happened?”

“You’d better record this!” Al croaks from the back.

Madison returns to the back of the van. “I will, but don’t expect miracles. What happened to sleeping, anyway?” Madison razzes her. Al has already turned over on her side and closed her eyes.

“I  _ am  _ sleeping.”

Back up front, Madison fiddles with the camera. "Okay. Now, Tyler.

“I want to know how you ended up dragging my friend out of a burning building. Feel free to start as far back as you want. I’ve got time.”


	7. With your talking and your pills, your messed-up life still thrills me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Madison tries on Al's career for size, and Al starts feeling better.

A couple of hours later, Al jolts awake, hazy-brained and coughing. Her head, ribcage and wrist are throbbing. Side-sleeping probably wasn’t a great idea, but it hadn’t been the worst one she’d had that day, either. She rolls over onto her back with a groan.

She hears Madison moving nearby and feels her sit down next to her. Moments later, Madison’s hand, calloused but still unbelievably comforting, is caressing the side of her face.

"Hey, I was just about to wake you. “Should I ask how you’re feeling, or…”

"I feel like I lost a fight to the MRAP." Al’s voice is gravely, and she clears her throat before starting to cough again.

“That’s not exactly surprising.” Madison helps her into a sitting position and unscrews the cap of her water bottle for her. She sizes Al up while she drinks. "'l’ll grab that ibuprofen for you... it should be okay for you to take it now."

Al shakes her head. “Unh-uh. Go in my safe. I have some Vicodin I've been saving."

Madison fetches the painkillers and shakes one out, handing it to Al as she sits back down next to her.

Al leans on her shoulder and sips her water, eyes closed again.

“I’m going to stay with you a little longer, until I know you’ll be okay.”

Al opens her mouth to protest, but Madison points out that she’s not exactly in a place to refuse. “Anyway” she adds, holding up the copy of Stephen King’s _The Stand_ that Al had taken from a box on the side of the road a few weeks prior, “I’ve been meaning to read this for years now, and here it is. Should keep me busy for a few days.”

“Mmhmm…” Al feels herself starting to nod off again.

The next days run together in Al’s mind. Sleeping, painkillers, probably saying incoherent things to Madison that she'd regret if she remembered them.

On the fourth morning, she wakes up feeling well enough to switch to ibuprofen and shuffle around the van a little.

"It's nice to have you fully conscious again. I thought I was going to go crazy in here. Although we did have some interesting conversations," Madison says, an amused look in her eyes.

Al instinctively pushes her hair back with her fingers, flinching as she hits the wound there. She sighs. "Oh god, what did I say?"

"Oh, we talked about all kinds of stuff,” she says with a smirk, “For one thing, there was a lot more worrying about your nose than I would have expected." Al can tell there was more, but Madison isn’t volunteering, and Al is pretty sure she’d rather not know.

"How is it?"

"It looks a lot better than it did 3 days ago. The swelling is down. It isn't broken, as far as I can tell. But I don't think you want to see it for yourself quite yet."

"I look that good, huh?" she grins nervously, feeling ridiculous for worrying about her nose when she could be dead.

"You're still beautiful… on the inside. Just stay away from mirrors for now." Madison winks at her. “The smaller cuts on your face are healing nicely. The new one on your head hasn’t bled since the day you got it. You really need to watch your head, though.”

Al lets out a sharp laugh. “Don’t even! Fifty percent of my current head injuries were purely your fault!”

Madison reaches out for Al’s waist and carefully pulls her into as much of a hug as she can without hurting her. “True, but it did bring us together.”

Al chuckles and reaches out for Madison’s waist. “It’s like a rom-com just waiting to be made.”

“Do you feel up to getting a little fresh air? We can sit on the steps… maybe take a little walk?”

"That sounds perfect.”

Madison goes out first, knife in hand, to rid the area of any walkers. She returns a few minutes later, looking satisfied. “Four down! Let’s go get some sun.” She helps Al get into her boots and down onto the top step of the van.

“Again, I am so relieved you’re feeling better.” Madison says quietly, pressing her lips to her cheek. Al turns her face and their lips meet, but she recoils as soon as her nose lightly grazes the other woman’s.

“Nope. That was stupid. I should _not_ have tried that,” Al admonishes herself, wearing a sheepish smile.

Madison gives her a sympathetic look but then laughs. “Sorry, but that was absolutely your own fault. Maybe give it another day or two, see if you feel up to it then.”

“Oh, I’ll feel up to it.” Al runs the fingertips of her good hand down the side of Madison’s face and down her neck to trace her collarbone.

“Good. I can’t wait,” Madison replies nonchalantly.

“God, I am _dying_ to make out with you.” Al lets her fingers travel a few inches lower, but Madison grabs her hand and brings it to her lips, laughing.

“Okay, now I _know_ you must be feeling better.”

“It’s absolute torture.” Al does that smirky half-smile that Madison adores before she changes the subject completely. “Will you get my camera? I want to see the interview you did.”

“That’s another thing you asked me about constantly the last few days. I thought I’d wait until you were coherent. Let me go get it.” As she stands up, she adds, “Oh, and I agree… it’s absolute fucking torture.”

After Madison disappears into the van, Al suddenly remembers that as soon as she’s feeling well, Madison will be moving on. Hurry up and heal, so she can lose this amazing woman who she’s starting to care so much about. She sighs and shakes it off for now.

Madison sits back down next to Al, adjusting the camera in her lap so Al will be able to see its small screen. It flickers on and the teenager’s nervous face fills the screen.

> Madison: Feel free to start as far back as you want. I’ve got time. [Long pause.] I guess, first, what’s your name and where are you from?
> 
> Tyler: I- I’m Tyler and I grew up about 20 miles outside Austin.
> 
> Madison: How old are you?
> 
> Tyler: 17.
> 
> Madison: How about your family, Tyler?
> 
> Tyler: They’re dead… they died… a couple of months ago? Not sure how long it’s been exactly.
> 
> Madison (softly): Do you mind sharing what happened to them?
> 
> Tyler: Yeah. [pauses; exhales] So my whole life, since I was a baby, we went to this church. My mom, my dad, my little sister, and two little brothers. We went to this church. But it was more than just a church. Like, it was really small? Maybe… fifty people? And everyone was really close. I never had friends that weren’t part of it… same with my parents. There were a lot of rules, but like I said… we were all really close. So it felt pretty normal to me.
> 
> Madison: Did you go to school with kids that weren’t from your church?
> 
> Tyler: Never. My mom taught us at home, but I had Bible classes with the other kids from church. The pastor, Pastor Steve, taught those.
> 
> Madison: What about extended family? Grandparents? Aunts and uncles? Cousins?
> 
> Tyler (shaking head): We didn’t see any of them. My mom and dad always said they weren’t following the ‘right path’ like we were.
> 
> Madison: What was your church’s name?
> 
> Tyler: It was called the Flame of God.

Madison pauses the interview, turning to look at Al, eyebrows raised.

“So he was being raised in a cult,” Al says, “Shocking that he turned out to be such an exemplary young man with an arson fetish.”

Madison unpauses the video.

> Madison: Flame of God? Tell me about that.
> 
> Tyler: Because we believe – _believed_ – that strictly following the Bible the way Pastor Steve taught us would purify us like fire. And this would trigger the end of the world, and the _true_ followers of Jesus, our church, would go to heaven.
> 
> Madison: Did _you_ believe?
> 
> Tyler (furrowing his eyebrows): Umm. I did when I was a kid. I guess I started questioning when I was about fourteen. My friends too – the ones who were with me. We’re the only ones left from Flame of God.
> 
> Madison: What happened to everyone else?
> 
> Tyler: They died in the church. After we started hearing stories about people dying, or not-dying and eating other people, our whole congregation moved onto the church campus. And for a long time it was okay. Everyone had a ton of gear and food and survival stuff and we all brought it to the church. We built a stronger fence, we had solar panels and a well, and like I said, until a few months ago we were good. We didn’t go out at all.
> 
> But then the supplies started running out, and that’s when things got really weird. Pastor Steve started preaching about literal fire. Started talking about how God helps those who help themselves, and that He was nudging Pastor Steve to help the group into heaven. And everyone acted like this was _totally normal_. [He stops, getting visibly upset.]
> 
> Madison: You want to take a break?
> 
> Tyler: Nah. I’m okay. [Sniffs and wipes eyes on sleeve] So me and my friends – John, Thomas, Esther – we started feeling like something really bad was going to happen in there.
> 
> So we started coming up with an exit plan. We made go-bags and hid them outside, started carrying knives on us, Thomas had a handgun he stole from his dad’s stash. Esther got her dad’s spare car keys.
> 
> The day it happened started out totally normal. Got up, morning prayers, breakfast, chores, then the whole-church sermon and Bible study. The communion table was set up in the normal spot, but it was covered with a cloth. Nothing super-weird about that. Except when Pastor Steve announced that he had good news – that God had said today was the day that Pastor Steve would be bringing our flock to heaven.
> 
> Madison: Woah.
> 
> Tyler: And the thing is, everyone started clapping, cheering, crying tears of joy, falling on the floor, et cetera. Including my parents. My sister and brothers. I looked around for my friends and we all made eye contact with each other. Pastor Steve pulled the cloth off the communion table and instead of normal communion stuff it was set up with gas cans and those long matches you use for fireplaces. I bolted for the back door right as Steve was telling the church elders to come to the front, and so did my friends. No one joined us. No one came after us. We were out of there. I looked back as we drove away and saw the whole church go up in flames.
> 
> Uh, can we take a break now?
> 
> Madison: Of course. [Screen goes black, then flickers back onto Tyler’s face]
> 
> Madison: Let’s pick up where we left off. So where did you go after you escaped?
> 
> Tyler: We’ve just been traveling around… avoiding people, learning to kill biters, scavenging for food. We found a few orchards. We do a lot of fishing.
> 
> Madison: So, let’s talk about the burning.
> 
> Tyler: [Sighs] The first time we did was kind of in homage of our families. Like a memorial? I don’t even know. We’re all totally fucked up in the head.
> 
> And I _really_ don’t know why we kept doing it after the first one. It made us feel… powerful? Like, our whole lives we were controlled by our parents and our church and now we can do whatever we want. Fire of God? Now it’s our fire. We’re probably going to be dead within a month or two anyway, so why not? We started making Molotov cocktails and doing this ritual for each house, where we’d each stand on one side and throw them through windows all at the same time. [Long Pause]
> 
> It was never our intention to cause harm.
> 
> Madison: But it happened.
> 
> Tyler: It did.
> 
> Madison: Keep going. Talk about today
> 
> Tyler: I was at the front of the house today. I threw the bottle through the living room window and was about to run when I heard the gunshot and then screams coming from inside. I panicked for a minute and I saw my friends running for the car, but I couldn’t, because someone was in there. When I opened the door, the room was filling with smoke. She was already on the floor at the bottom of the stairs and I could tell she was about to pass out. There was a biter – a baby one – that was trying to bite through her sleeve. I kicked it off and dragged her out of the house.
> 
> And that’s when you showed up.
> 
> I didn’t mean to for her to get hurt.
> 
> Madison: [nods] I get that. But Tyler, I want you to think about something else. Think about how rough things are going to get for you and your friends a few weeks from now, when winter hits. And you’re not the only survivors out there. Do you know why she was in that house?
> 
> Tyler: Finding supplies?
> 
> Madison: Exactly. Even if she hadn’t been in the house, maybe someone would have come along that desperately needed a place to sleep. Medication. A warm coat. Shoes. Diapers. Things that were in that house before you burned it down.
> 
> Tyler: [Nods] I caused harm, and I still would’ve even if no one were in it at the time.
> 
> Madison: You’re right about that. This van? Isn’t mine, and it was never our intention to travel together. I’ve been looking for a working vehicle so I can go find my kids. My daughter is the same age as you. My son is dealing with PTSD. I haven’t seen them in weeks. I can only hope that barn didn’t catch fire, because it’s got what I need inside it.
> 
> I’m going to shut off the tape.
> 
> Tyler: Hang on. [He looks directly into the camera.] Hey… I don’t know your name, but I know you’re going to get better and that you’re going to see this when you do.
> 
> I am so sorry that my friends… that _I_ started that fire. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t mean to hurt you or someone else. You’re injured, you’re in pain, you could’ve died. It’s all my fault. There isn’t anything I can do to help you, but my actions will be different from now on. When I find my friends, their actions will be too. No more fires. Again… I’m so sorry. [Looks away]

The video cuts off there.

Al stares at the black screen. “That was… pretty intense.”

Madison nods. “We made that video right after you fell asleep the first time. After I gave you the Vicodin and you were out again, we chatted for a couple more hours.”

“Wow.”

Madison shrugs. “I’m a counselor. He needs guidance. And a lot more than what I was able to give him. I have to admit though, it felt really good to do my old job again.”

“I get it… I never completely stopped doing mine,” says Al. “So how long was he here?”

“Not long… he slept in the passenger seat for at least part of that night. I was getting up every couple of hours to check on you.”

“You did? Really?”

“I have been ever since your accident. I think last night was the end of that though.”

“You must be exhausted.”

Madison’s tired eyes meet Al’s. “A little, but I’m okay. It was probably overkill doing it the last couple nights, but I worried so much about you.

“Anyway, he was still there when I woke up at four, but by sunrise he was gone. I really hope he found his friends. I never would’ve sent him out there alone.” She stares off down the road.

“I know. There wasn’t anything you could’ve done, though.” Al intertwines the fingers of her good hand with Madison’s. Madison smiles pensively.

Al brushes her bangs off her face. “So, this fills in some of the blanks in my memory. I vaguely remembered what went on… getting attacked, falling on the stairs. Then the baby being downstairs, but that was basically it.” She stares off into the distance, her eyes starting to look a little wet.

“Those kids.” She shudders. “They were locked in the hall closet upstairs. I’m guessing for protection from whatever took their parents away because there was no sign of them. Maybe they were on a supply run and thought it was safer to lock them up than risk taking them? I really don’t know. The kids had this cute room and their names were painted on the walls of it. I don’t know why knowing their names made finding them feel so much worse, but…” Al trails off.

“It’s harder not to think of them just as monsters when you know their names.” 

Al shakes her head. “I can’t stop thinking that I shot a little kid. Right in the center of his fucking forehead.” The tears that had been welling up in her eyes spill over, running down her cheeks.

Madison turns Al’s chin so she can look into her eyes. “That little boy was already gone. You were defending yourself against a monster. Just like every other time you’ve killed the dead. This time the monster was just smaller.” Avoiding Al’s nose, Madison wipes away her tears away with the sleeve of her flannel. 

“Thank you. Yeah, my head knows that, but my heart is having a hard time believing it.”

Madison nods. "You've talked about this a lot the last few days. I know how much it's been bothering you.

“Can I give a suggestion?” Madison continues after Al nods her consent. “I’ve had problems with ruminating endlessly on things I’ve done, or things I can’t change, or things that might happen. A therapist I had a few years ago gave me this phrase to repeat to myself when it happens: ‘A thought is just a thought, a feeling is just a feeling.’”

Al raises an eyebrow. “Did it work?”

“It did and it does, for me. It’s not a miracle, but it calms me down enough to see things a little more clearly. At first, I had to remember to do it, but now it’s pretty automatic.” Madison smiles self-consciously. “Anyway. Try it if you want, or don’t.”

“I will. Thank you.” Al breathes deeply, and does it without coughing for the first time in days. What a relief.

"Still want to go for that walk?”

Al nods and shakily starts to stand, and Madison grabs onto her. “ _Without_ falling down another set of stairs, please. Just let me help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR the interview - Boy is raised in cult, boy and friends grow disillusioned and are the only survivors of the cult's mass suicide by fire, boy and friends burn buildings because why not, boy is remorseful and apologizes profusely.
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts, so please leave me a comment! Thanks for reading!


	8. The me, the you, where are we now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve probably interviewed a hundred people since everything ended, and you’re definitely my favorite.”

“It feels _so good_ to not be laying around in the van.” If Al was capable of having a spring in her step she would have one, but instead she’s still leaning on Madison a little for support.

Madison, having been stuck in the van as long as Al, smirks. “I completely understand.”

“Have I thanked you for saving my life yet?”

“Only about a hundred times in the last few days… you just don’t remember,” Madison teases. “Really though, you were the one who was trying to help me when it happened. So I owe you.”

“Or maybe no one owes anyone anything, and we’re just two humans who helped each other. And maybe like each other a little,” she adds with a stupid smile on her face.

Madison raises her eyebrows. “Like each other a little? Are we fifteen?” She loops her arm around Al’s waist and kisses her behind the ear. “I hope you’re gonna sneak a note into my locker later.”

Al opens her mouth to respond and Madison cuts her off. “I see that gleam in your eye… do not make a comment about how you were learning the alphabet the last time I had a locker… I’m not _that_ much older than you.”

“I would never.” Al tries to look shocked and cracks up instead. “Especially not now, when I can’t run away if you try to hit me with your cane.”

Madison guffaws. “You’re damn lucky I like you… a little.” 

“Oh, I know,” says Al. “I’ve probably interviewed a hundred people since everything ended, and you’re definitely my favorite.”

“Really! Who was your favorite before me?”

“There were these two guys I ran into a few months ago. One of them was this huge ex-military type, bright red hair, possibly the foulest mouth I’ve ever heard, and the other one was supposedly a world-renowned doctor or scientist on his way to DC with a cure. Abraham and Eugene.”

“Oh, is that the ‘Abe/Doctor’ tape? I was wondering about that one.”

“Yep! Watch it later if you want… I feel like there’s a nap in my near future. So, Eugene was the doctor, except he was, without a doubt in my mind, completely full of shit. Abraham seemed to buy it though… he’d made it his personal mission to protect Eugene with his life.”

Madison chuckles, “You’ve got to give him credit… it’s a brilliant way to keep himself alive.”

“Absolutely! The ‘doctor’ wasn’t exactly the type of person who would survive this on his own. Who is, though? Besides Abraham. Dude was made for this hellscape. I actually think about those two a lot. Did they make it to D.C., does D.C. still exist, at what point did Abe figure out he was being played, where are they now… are they still alive?” She shrugs. “I doubt I’ll ever get to find out, but you never know.”

“No one’s gone until they’re gone,” Madison replies, “Maybe they figure out a way to stay alive… find a community or something.”

Al nods. “That’s totally possible. But anyway… out of everyone I’ve interviewed, I’m pretty happy you’re the one I got to keep around for a little while.” She turns her head toward Madison, who meets her gaze.

“I am, too.” Madison studies Al’s face. “How are you feeling? If you’re getting tired we should head back now… I know we’re not that far from the van, but I don’t want you to push yourself.”

Al yawns on cue. “I'm feeling a lot better but I just don’t have any energy. I really can’t believe how tired this little walk made me.” Madison offers her an arm again, and Al takes it gratefully.

As they head back toward the van, Al refers back to their conversation about her former favorites. “We were talking about how Abraham was meant to survive this, and Eugene had to come up with a scam. Before I could go into combat zones as a journalist, I had to go through hostile environment training, advanced first aid, learn tons of survival stuff… I think I’ve used almost all of it in the last year. So my job from before is why I’m still alive now. What about you?”

Madison hesitates. “Sheer luck, I guess.” Al notes the slight edge to her voice, the change in her smile from genuine to tense. 

Al softens her tone and squeezes Madison’s arm as they walk side-by-side. “You don’t have to tell me anything at all, but for what it’s worth, I’m not looking for a story here. It’s just me, wanting to know you better.”

Looking straight ahead, Madison gives a nearly indiscernible nod. They walk on in silence. 

Eventually, Madison speaks. “I’ve survived because I was willing to step on other people to do it. Holding you at gunpoint, trying to steal your van was really shitty, but it isn’t the worst thing I’ve done to make sure my family survived. I’ve manipulated people, told horrendous lies to get my way, thrown people under the bus. A lot of people have died because of me… a few of them firsthand, more as a result of my actions.”

She stops abruptly and turns to face Al, who looks at her with furrowed brows and is, for once, at a loss for words. Al brings a hand to Madison’s face, grazing her cheek and then smoothing back the hair the breeze has blown onto it. Madison closes her eyes and leans into her touch. 

“Probably not what you were expecting to hear, was it?”

“I’m not exactly surprised. I’ve heard similar things from a lot of people I’ve interviewed. Which is exactly why I shouldn’t have brought it up at all,” Al says quietly, catching Madison’s hand in hers, “I’m sorry.”

“I just can’t believe this is who I’ve become, you know? I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to do any of that again. I can’t.”

“Do you feel like you’re still that person?” Al asks quietly.

"Apparently I still was a week ago, when we first met.”

"But I think if you were, you wouldn’t be saying any of this to me at all. Or when you came back to my van that night, you would’ve just killed me and taken it. But instead you gave me all your weapons, flirted with me, and fell asleep.” Her joke breaks the tension, and Madison cracks a small smile, meeting Al’s earnest eyes with her own.

“This world is shit,” Al continues. “People do horrible things to survive. I haven’t had anyone depending on me so I haven’t had to make the choices you have.

“And anyway, I have my own mountain of guilt and I started building it before all of this. For years I’ve stood by, filming, while bad things happened that I could’ve stopped or lessened, and most of the time I haven’t even tried. In the name of neutrality. Which is what my job dictated. Capture the event, but don’t change the outcome. But the last media outlet died a year ago now, and I’ve still been living by that principal. Whether or not my inaction was ethical when my job still existed, it’s inexcusable now. So I’ve got blood on my hands, too.”

“I think everyone still alive has blood on their hands. Still doesn’t make me feel okay with things I’ve done,” Madison says, resuming their walk.

“I hear that.”

When they get back to the van, Al drags herself into the back for a nap, and Madison heads to the front to finish her book in the passenger seat. Except she finds herself half-reading the same page repeatedly without actually absorbing any of it. Closing the book, she reclines the seat and tries to find a comfortable position for sleeping. After the stress of caring for Al the last few days, she could use a nap herself.

But despite her weariness she doesn’t fall asleep. In her mind she turns over everything that has happened in the last few weeks. Getting separated from her group. The endless wandering on highways, starving and on the verge of complete hopelessness. That willingness to do literally anything to anyone to increase her chances of finding them.

And then meeting Al. The woman whose van she’d tried to steal. Who she’d been ready to kill if necessary. Al, who had responded with compassion, somehow flipping a switch that allowed her to see that things can be better, that even in this world people can be good. That strangers don't have to be enemies.   
/  
Al, who Madison is pretty sure is one of the most beautiful people she's ever seen, with whom she’d had a mutual attraction nearly from the first moment they laid eyes on each other. And as Al had made clear to her an hour earlier, the feelings have progressed beyond physical attraction for both of them. Al, who gives her butterflies in her stomach like she’s fifteen.  
  
She reminds herself that that Al is almost healed enough to be on her own again, and that she’ll be leaving her to resume her search for her family. And as anxious as she’s been to find her own people, she also realizes that for every extra day she spends with Al, the less she’s able to think about parting ways with her. 

_Who falls in love at the end of the world, while separated from their family, only a few months after the death of their fiancé? With someone they’ve known for a week?_ She corrects herself. _Maybe not quite love yet, but the potential is absolutely there._ Back in the old reality, Madison knows she’d have a hard time not judging a friend who was talking about moving in with a person they’d dated for a week, and yet in this world it seems perfectly logical to ask a person to do exactly that, minus having any sort of actual home to move into. How times have changed.

She has a feeling it would still seem less than perfectly logical to her family, one member in particular. Strand and Lucy would be cautious, but would probably welcome an addition to their small group, especially one who knows her way around weapons and basically drives a tank. Considering the way Nick has been since the dam, it’s unlikely he’d have much to say about Al's presence at all. She feels a momentary pang of guilt for suspending her search these last few days. 

_Alicia is a different story._ Madison sighs as she thinks about her iron-willed daughter. Despite their erratic relationship, she had been surprisingly territorial about her mother dating, no matter who it was, after her father died when she was eleven. She’d hated Travis. She’d hated Rob. She’d even kind of hated Jen, who had bought her her first artist-grade paints and taught her how to use them. Alicia won’t be happy, but she’s older now and can deal with it.

But will Al go for it? Madison is unsure, but considering how her heart sinks when she thinks about her potentially saying no, she knows she’s already feeling deeply invested in her saying yes. Madison also knows that one of her own least charming attributes is how hard a time she has taking no for an answer. She vows not to try to influence a yes from Al. If Al decides to stick with her, it needs to be completely her own decision, no matter how much Madison wants her to stay.

She’ll bring it up later. In the meantime, she just wants to be close to the other woman, and preferably asleep. 

She creeps into the back of the van to join her on her makeshift bed, curling her body around her. Al stirs, and covers the hand that has landed on her hip with her own. “Sorry,” Madison whispers against her skin at the nape of her neck. “I couldn’t resist.” Al sleepily pulls Madison’s arm around her body, holding her hand against her chest. She sighs and goes back to sleep.

Al awakens first, feeling Madison’s chest rising and falling slowly against her back, her arm still wrapped around her. She’s in pain again, and the position she slept in isn’t making it any better, but she could lay here with this woman forever. Or at least for a few more minutes. She tries to stay perfectly still so as not to break the spell.

She curses her overactive brain as it immediately jumps to what she doesn’t want to think about – Madison’s looming departure. Why is she so hung up on this? She’s been traveling alone since things changed – even since before things changed. 

_I’ve known this woman a week. Less than a week. I don’t even know her name. But does it really matter?_ Al can’t possibly think about anything that matters less in their current reality than knowing what someone calls herself. What she does know matters a lot more. That her life has been saved by this woman twice this week - and that she put her own desperate search for her kids on hold to spend the last few days and nights caring for her. She loves her family fiercely. She recognizes the harm she’s caused others, and is actively trying to change. Al can tell she prides herself on being able to take care of herself, and yet she still let herself rely on Al when she needed her. And she’s obviously incredibly smart. Her sense of humor is subtle and, at times, a little dark, which Al loves. _And she’s a total badass. And she’s hot. And every time our eyes meet, I feel a connection I haven’t had with anyone in ages, and oh my god, I’m ridiculous. And so ridiculously into her._

Maybe it’s not a newfound dislike of being alone, but her growing adoration for the woman who's invaded her usual solitude. _Why now? Who the hell finds love (okay, maybe it could be love but it’s too soon to say…) after the world ends?_

It feels like an impossible situation. Madison has a family she’s dying to find, including two kids. Adult kids, but still. Al doesn’t see herself fitting in with that scenario at all. She’s too independent, too detached. She’s let down people who she’s cared about before, and she’s not sure she won’t end up doing it again. Best to let Madison go her own way, not that anything else has been discussed anyway. Madison will be okay because she’ll be with her family. Al will be okay because she has to be. Because she always is.

She doesn’t realize how tightly she’s started pulling Madison’s arm around her until the other woman wakes. “You okay?”

Al cautiously rolls over to face Madison, the pain in her ribs be damned. Madison sighs and slowly opens her eyes to look into Al’s, smiling sleepily. 

“I just… really like you being here. In my bed. And just in general.” She maneuvers her body closer to Madison’s, their bare legs entangling. 

“Me too.” Madison closes the space between their mouths, and they somehow manage to share a few kisses without anyone getting hurt. 

When Al pulls away to catch her breath, their eyes lock again. “What?” she asks, unable to read the expression on Madison’s face. 

Madison reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Al’s ear and lets her hand linger on her cheek. Her eyes hopeful, she murmurs, “Come with me.” 

Al breaks their shared gaze abruptly and looks somewhere past Madison’s head, her silence giving Madison exactly the answer she doesn’t want, and she realizes, wasn’t expecting. 

“I—" Al doesn’t even know what to say. She hadn’t anticipated this being a decision she would actually get a chance to make. Were the reasons she’d given herself for why she wouldn’t stay with Madison real, or were they her attempt to convince herself that she didn’t want to because she hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up? She forces herself to reconnect with Madison’s green eyes, which are filled with disappointment.

“Why not?” is all Madison can say. 

“You’ve got your people, and I’m just… better off alone.” Al gives a pathetic shrug, struggles to a sitting position and turns away so the other woman won’t see her eyes filling with tears.

And then Madison is up on her feet, pulling on the jeans that she’d abandoned earlier before joining Al in bed. “That’s bullshit and we both know it,” she spits out. 

Al can’t even look at her. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, still keeping her head turned away from Madison. She hears her pull her boots on and grab her weapons and a walkie before opening the back door of the MRAP. In a softer voice she says, “I’ll see you in a little bit. Call if you need me.” She secures the door behind herself, and Al is alone, tears spilling down her cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show contradicted itself on how old Alicia was when her father died, so I’m going with the younger age (eleven) in order to give Madison more time to have dated people that Alicia hated before meeting Travis.


	9. Sometimes I wish that I could stop you from talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madison unclips her walkie from her belt. She hesitates, realizing she doesn’t have a name to call. “Bexar do you copy?” she says, referencing the county name emblazoned on the side of the MRAP. The no names thing seems so silly in hindsight, but she can’t imagine exchanging them at this point.
> 
> Her walkie crackles. “This is Bexar. I copy… Amina.” 
> 
> Madison can hear a note of playfulness in Al’s voice, and she feels herself relax the tiniest bit.

Madison doesn’t go very far. Her first instinct is to take a long walk away from the MRAP, but considering what happened the last time she and Al split up, she keeps it within sight, walking a large circumference around it instead of heading straight away.

The sun is a little lower in the sky than she’d expected it to be, but the day is cloudless and there should still be a couple hours of sunlight, she thinks. She used to always have her phone on her and usually a watch as well. One of those things is long gone, and the other is somewhere in Al’s van. A couple of crows fly from one tree to another, their calls filling the silence. That was one thing Madison hadn’t anticipated when the world fell…how much quieter things are now. Usually she appreciates it, but right now her thoughts are too loud.

_So much for respecting Al’s decision. Great job, Maddie._

Madison knows she has no right to be upset with Al, but she is. Nowadays, the chance of finding another living human that you’re even remotely attracted to, much less are starting to fall for, is rarer than finding a car with both a working battery and a full tank of gas. Not that she’d been thinking about love at all; since the world ended all she’s thought about was survival. Regardless, the two of them met out of the blue, against all odds – and she can’t believe Al is willing to walk away from it, without even giving it a chance.

But on the other hand, can she blame her for not wanting to be the unexpected guest at someone else’s family reunion, especially considering two members of the family are that person’s kids? Not in the least.

But it still sucks. And she recognizes that Al is upset, too, and regardless of what Madison thinks of her decision, it’s valid. She sniffs, and wipes her eyes on her sleeve.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the low, hoarse growling of a walker hobbling through the brush. Sighing, Madison unsheathes her knife and picks her way towards it. Her heart sinks as she sees its already-tattered black clothing and short hair. She’d gotten the idea that Tyler’s survival skills weren’t where they needed to be, and it’s not the first time she’s had to put down someone she knew. Still, she doubts she’ll ever stop getting that sick feeling in her stomach as she jams a knife into the brain of a friend, loved one, acquaintance, temporary counseling client.

Al was right – it’s not her fault he left in the middle of the night by himself, but he was still a kid – Alicia’s age, and much more sheltered than her daughter. And no more of a mess than she herself been at his age.

You bury the ones you know, even if they wronged you, even if you only knew them for a day. She drags him by his arms to a less wooded spot and unclips her walkie from her belt.

She hesitates, realizing she doesn’t have a name to call. “Bexar do you copy?” she says, referencing the county name emblazoned on the side of the MRAP. The no names thing seems so silly in hindsight, but she can’t imagine exchanging them at this point.

Her walkie crackles. “This is Bexar. I copy…. Amina.”

Madison can hear a note of playfulness in Al’s voice, and she feels herself relax the tiniest bit.

“Do you have a shovel?”

“Yeah, unless you’re going to slam it into my head… in which case I don’t.”

“Smart ass. I’m coming back for it.”

She leaves Tyler’s body and heads for the MRAP.

Al is already sitting on the steps with the shovel when Madison walks up. “Tyler?” she asks.

Madison nods. “I’m not surprised, but I’m still a little sad, you know?”

Al sets the shovel down and carefully navigates the steps, pulling Madison into a hug the second she gets close enough. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, unsure if it’s for turning down her proposition, or for the dead kid they’re about to bury. Maybe a little bit of both.

Madison hugs her tighter, then releases her and takes the shovel off the back of the van. Al follows Madison to the spot where she’d left Tyler.

Neither woman says a word until Madison has finished burying him in the shallow grave she digs. “I guess that’s it, then. I feel like there should be something we say or do, but there just… isn’t.” She tucks the shovel under her arm and shoves her hands into her pockets as she turns to go.

“Hey, can you slow down a little?” Al calls out to Madison as she strides at full speed back toward the MRAP.

She stops in her tracks. “Yeah. I’m sorry,” she says blankly, without turning around. But she lets Al catch up to her, and then continues at a pace that the injured woman can more easily keep up with. “How are you feeling?”

“I took more ibuprofen than I probably should have, so I’m feeling okay right now. Physically anyway,” she clarifies.

“And the rest of you?”

“Not so good.” She looks down at her feet, out towards the horizon, down at Madison’s hand, which she takes, and then drops after a moment, instead pushing her own hair out of her eyes. Shaking her head slowly, she says, “I’m so sorry. I just… wish things were different.”

Madison stops again and takes Al’s hand, gently pulling her back toward her, trying unsuccessfully to make eye contact. “Honey. We _all_ wish things were different. But they’re not. No matter how much I would rather have met you in the world before this, where we could go on dates, get to know each other over time… this is our reality now and it’s all we get. We walk away from each other, and it’s extremely unlikely we’ll ever see each other again."

She gives up on attempting eye contact, staring out toward the horizon instead. Choosing her words carefully, she continues. “I’m… feeling too much for you to just be okay with that. And I didn’t anticipate ever feeling this way about someone again. But I am, and I know it’s not just me. I see it in your eyes. I feel it every single time we touch.” She looks back toward Al, searching her face for answers. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Al continues to avert her eyes, which are getting shinier by the second. Despite wanting to say everything, she says nothing.

Madison lets out a single laugh, finally letting go of a few of the tears that have been building up. “Shit. Here I am, doing it again… I told myself I would respect your answer, that I wouldn’t try to pressure you into doing what _I_ want you to do. This is exactly what I always do. I’m sorry. That’s the last I’ll say about it.” Madison drops Al’s hand, swipes at her eyes with her sleeve, and stalks away.

“So… I’m not armed right now,” Al calls out after her, more than a note of irritation in her voice. “Remember? Sprained wrist, dominant hand? I probably couldn’t defend myself right now even if I were.”

Madison curses under her breath and stops again to wait for Al to catch up. As soon as Al gets close enough, she reaches out for Madison’s arm. “I know you’re mad at me, but can you _not_ leave me by myself out here?”

There’s no verbal response, but Al feels her relax a tiny bit. She turns her toward her, pulling her close. “You’re not wrong about the feelings. At all,” she says into her hair, “I’m crazy about you. This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. I hate that I’m being so vague, but I can’t go more into it than that. Please don’t ask me to.”

As skilled as Al is at getting other people to tell all, she’s terrible at sharing any real information about herself with them. The last time she’d opened up to anybody was before the world ended, and it was to the same person that she ended up abandoning as it fell. She can barely handle thinking about her brother, even though he’s always floating around below the surface of her subconscious. She’s definitely not going to tell someone else about him, with actual words and all the accompanying emotions that would undoubtedly come out about the whole thing if she did. The shame of leaving him to die alone while she chased a story that would never even have an audience; her resulting inability to trust herself enough to not leave someone else who depends on her for some equally pointless reason.

For a moment, Al worries that Madison is going to walk off again. But instead, she takes Al’s face in her hands and kisses her on the forehead. “I will respect that.”

Lifting her eyes to meet Madison’s, she replies, “I can’t handle you being mad at me, even though you have every right to be. We’re running out of time together and that already sucks enough.”

They share a sad smile before Al leans in enough for their lips to connect, briefly at first, but when she starts to pull away, Madison moves in closer to keep it going. Al’s heart fills with relief, wistfulness, and desire all at the same time. It’s unclear to Al whose tears end up on her cheeks, but it doesn’t really matter. 

“I’ve got good news,” Madison says, causing Al to lift her head from the passenger seat of the MRAP, where she’s resting ( _but not sleeping… an important distinction_ ) while Madison works on getting something together for dinner.

“You found a portal leading back to 2009?” she guesses, yawning.

“Not quite.”

“You discovered a cure for the infected?”

Madison sighs.

“You found the flashlight I dropped last week that rolled off into nowhere?” she asks, raising her eyebrows hopefully.

Al can practically hear Madison rolling her eyes. “Well, I think what I was _going_ to say is at least as exciting as that… I don’t know if you remember what you got from the house before the accident, but you found a couple bags of pasta and one of them isn’t completely crushed. _And_ by some small miracle, you also managed to find a can of tomatoes _and_ you already had a can of tomato paste.”

“No, that’s way better news than the flashlight… this will probably one of the most normal meals I’ve had in months.” Al stretches out like a cat who lost a fight in the alleyway, wincing as she remembers she’s still recovering from a handful of injuries. She reaches for the ibuprofen and her water and then relaxes back into the seat.

She can hear Madison rifling through the plastic box where she stores her food. “I have to say, I’m pretty impressed with your collection of spices.”

Al laughs. “Trust me, it greatly outweighs my ability to cook… I never really learned. I take spices when I find them in a futile attempt to make canned garbage taste edible. I have no idea what I was planning to use the tomato paste for."

“So there _is_ something you don’t know how to do. This blows my whole perception of you.”

“Sorry to disappoint… I’m not actually Wonder Woman. But I guess the fact that I got tired from a twenty-minute walk today already blew my cover.”

“That’s okay… at least you’re down to only two naps a day.”

Al knows she’s being teased but clarifies anyway. “I wasn’t napping… just resting. And I’m about to get up anyway.” But before she does, Madison climbs into the front of the van and straddles her lap, taking care not to put any actual pressure on Al’s body.

“Hey,” she says, smirking at Al as she fiddles with the lock of hair that is perpetually hanging in her eyes. “You weren’t actually going to get up, were you?”

“Ugh, you can’t do this!” Al laughs, but her mouth immediately finds her way to Madison’s, and her hands to her hips, pulling her down onto her lap.

Madison smiles against Al’s mouth. “Do what?” She unbuttons the top button of Al’s shirt, her fingers sliding under the fabric to trace her collarbone.

“Tell me that we have ingredients to make pasta when I’m absolutely starving, and then come sit on me like this.” Her lips reconnect with Madison’s, lightly biting her lower lip.

“Oh, _I’m_ sorry.” Madison stops fiddling with Al’s shirt and acts like she’s going to get up. “I’ll just go out and get the fire started now.”

Al laughs and tightens her grip on her hips. “But I guess it won’t hurt to wait a little longer. To eat. Dinner,” Al clarifies as she returns her mouth to other woman’s.

“Good call,” Madison murmurs, getting back to work on the buttons on Al’s shirt. 

"Okay. but seriously? I'm so hungry."

"We'll make it quick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler: They _don't_ make it quick.  
> ~~~  
> I was procrastinating doing some work a few days ago, so I went back and named all the chapters! They all came from the lyrics of three songs that have the same name.  
> ~~~  
> I'm thinking there's probably 2 more chapters left in this story. If you've been enjoying it please leave me a comment! Thanks for reading!


	10. You laugh and tell me it's just fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al grins. “Oh, come on… when have I ever dropped a weapon?”
> 
> “One, about a week ago when we were trying to jump my truck. Two, less than a week ago. I’m assuming that’s what happened anyway, considering it wasn’t on your belt after the fire. Your gun disappeared in the fire, too, so that’s three.”
> 
> “That was a rhetorical question.”

Madison ascends the steps to the MRAP, closing the doors and latching them behind her. “We’re not cooking tonight. It’s pitch dark and pretty cold… it can’t be more than 40 degrees out there.” She tosses her leather jacket on the seats opposite Al and picks up a plaid wool blanket, wrapping it around herself.

Al looks up at Madison from the row of seats where she’d been shoving her feet into her boots. She smirks but says nothing, her shoulders shaking in a silent laugh. She kicks the boots off.

Madison smiles at her, a little guiltily, and Al thinks she detects a blush on her cheeks in the light of her LED lantern. Softening, her own smirk turns into a legitimate smile. “Okay, change of plans. We’ve got truck stop snacks and canned fruit, and instead of a campfire we stay warm with blankets and each other.”

Dropping down on the seat next to her, Madison kisses her cheek before bending down to unlace her boots. “I’m sorry! My timing was so bad.”

“Well, you’re not wrong – but _I’m_ not crying about it.” Al squeezes Madison’s shoulder before using it as leverage to get up and look around for food.

Dinner over, Al retrieves the bottle of whiskey they’d opened several days prior and settles back down next to Madison, pulling the blanket they were been sharing back around her shoulders.

“So, tomorrow,” Al starts, but she’s not sure where to go with it. She hands the bottle to Madison without looking at her.

“Tomorrow,” Madison echoes before taking a drink.

Strengthening her resolve to have a conversation that she’d been dreading all day, Al continues. “We need to get back to finding a vehicle for you. I’ve held you up long enough, and—”

“Stop. We’ve talked about this. You didn’t hold me up. It's taking the amount of time that it's taking to get me back on the road. The fact that we’ve enjoyed being together doesn’t change that.”

Al has enjoyed it so goddamned much she could cry. She moves her face closer and their lips meet. She doesn’t want to think about their time together in past tense verbs, and it would be so much easier to let go of this conversation and just spend the evening the same way they’d spent the late afternoon, naked and tangled in each other’s limbs.

Instead she sighs and smooths Madison’s hair back from her face, pressing her lips to her forehead. “You’re right… but I’m almost back to normal and I want to make sure you’re ready to get on your way when I am. We should start looking tomorrow, in case we’re as unsuccessful as we were _before_ I almost died.”

Madison smiles gently. “We should look, but I think you still have a few days of recovery before I’m comfortable leaving you on your own. You just left the van for the first time today.” Her expression changes abruptly. “Oh! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this… that day, in the barn, there were a few trucks and a wall of parts. So unless Tyler’s friends returned and went full Waco on the farm...”

“Cool. We’ll check it out first thing tomorrow,” Al replies, trying to sound more upbeat than she’s feeling about it, and failing. She sighs.

Madison furrows her brow, concerned. “You feeling okay?”

She forces a smile. “I’m just tired. And my wrist hurts, my ribs hurt, and my head is aching.” _My_ _heart aches more than everything else combined._ She keeps that part to herself. “I think I should go to bed.”

Madison gives her a suspicious look but sets up their bed on the floor of the MRAP while Al swaps out her jeans for sweats and hunts down the painkillers. “I’m going to stay up a little longer and read, but I’ll go up front so the light won’t bother you.”

Al half-heartedly insists that the light won’t bother her regardless, but Madison gathers up her book and the lantern anyway. Al is relieved to have some time alone to sort out her feelings, but falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

Relief washes over Madison as they pull into the long driveway to the farm where Al had nearly lost her life earlier in the week. The house is a charred mess, but the outbuildings remain untouched.

She notes that after whatever mood Al had slid into the night before, she seems to be back to her normal self today. The still-recovering, lower-energy version of her normal self, anyway.

Madison curses as she pulls up near the same door as last time.

“What’s wrong?” Al looks up from the backpack she’s digging through, searching again for that flashlight that still hasn’t reappeared.

“Apparently I was so concerned about rescuing my damsel in distress that I left the door to the barn open. That fire probably attracted every walker in the county, and there’s a good chance at least a few of them ended up in here. And there’s so much junk, it’s going to be hard to get them out.”

“Well, you’re definitely not doing it alone. My wrist is still killing me, but if I had to I could—”

“Drop your knife and get bit?”

Al grins. “Oh, come on… when have I ever dropped a weapon?”

“One, about a week ago when we were trying to jump my truck. Two, less than a week ago. I’m assuming that’s what happened anyway, considering it wasn’t on your belt after the fire. Your gun disappeared in the fire, too, so that’s three.”

“That was a rhetorical question.”

“Regardless, I don’t trust your sprained wrist, no matter how capable you normally are.”

As if on cue, a walker appears in the doorway, rasping and stumbling its way toward the MRAP.

“I’ll start killing whatever comes out on their own… will you move the van so the headlights shine into the barn?”

Al nods and moves over to the driver’s seat as Madison hops out. “Hey,” Al calls down to her, “be careful, will you? I’ll come back you up as soon as I can.”

Madison shoots her a wry smile before turning around to shove her knife up through the throat of her first kill of the day. “Safety first, right?” She pounds on the metal doorframe of the barn as Al maneuvers the MRAP around and flips on the headlights.

Madison can take the lead, but Al’s not going to stand by and watch, injuries or not. She considers her options as she gathers her remaining weapons. She’s not bad with her trench spike in her left hand but she’s not great either. She grabs it and a longer knife as well. Using any weapon in her right hand is bound to hurt like hell, but she can do it if she has to. She slings her rifle - the last-resort option - over her shoulder. Last, she clips her largest flashlight to her belt with a carabiner and tucks a smaller one into her jacket pocket. The barn has no windows, and the van’s lights are only going to go so far.

Al exits the MRAP to find Madison methodically killing walkers as they shamble out of the barn. Not wanting to break her concentration, she stands by and watches. After the fourth walker hits the ground, Al grabs the arms of the closest body and drags it out of Madison’s way, trying to ignore the pain in her wrist and her ribs.

Madison glances over at Al as she yanks her knife out of another walker. “Seriously… I’m just fine by myself, and you’re going to hurt yourself for no reason!” She shoves the walker off to the side as she releases it from her grasp.

“I’m okay! Seriously. I can’t just stand here and watch you do all the work.” Al reaches for another dead walker, and wincing, drags it away.

“But if you hurt yourself doing this, you might not be able to help when I really need it.” She stabs another walker. “That battery is probably going to be too heavy for me to carry on my own.”

She has a point, and Al backs away and casually leans against the MRAP. “I’ll just… hang out and admire you from over here, I guess,” she jokes half-heartedly. Watching the blonde take on a half-dozen walkers on her own is riveting, but she’d rather be teaming up with her.

Once the last walker to exit the barn has been put down, Al tosses the spare flashlight to Madison and switches her own on. The MRAP’s headlights help a little, but don’t go very far in the giant structure. It does illuminate, however, how cluttered the space is.

“We need to open the main doors over on the far wall… it’ll give us a lot more light, and I bet we can get rid of some more of them before we go in.”

The doors are chained shut from the outside, but the chains are easily broken when Al attaches them to the hitch on the SWAT van. She stands by, feeling useless again, as Madison puts down the dead that wander out.

There’s more light streaming into the barn now, and as her eyes adjust Al can see a handful of trucks, the wall of parts Madison had mentioned the night before, farm equipment, building supplies, several decades’ worth of cast-off furniture, and quite a bit of what could only be classified as junk.

“Alright, so we’re just looking for a battery, right? Not a different truck? Either way, we need to find a multimeter so we can see if any of the batteries are even any good, but there’s gotta be at least one of those in here.”

“I’m not sure how we’d even get a truck out of here, considering all the stuff in between them and the doors,” Madison replies. “We should move the van back to the other door so it’s closer to the battery… if we find one.”

Madison works on a plan while Al drives back to the other side of the barn. “I’m going in first to make sure the area by the car parts is clear. Then I’ll keep an eye out for the dead while you’re looking for your multi… whatever.”

Al snickers, and Madison reaches across the seats to poke her. “Why is that funny?”

“I don’t know… you just always seem to know stuff, so it’s a little surprising when you don’t. It’s kind of cute.” Al grins at her as she pulls the key from the ignition and hangs the cord strung through it around her neck.

“In the case of car-related matters, it’s more of a willful ignorance,” admits Madison. “But _you’re_ kind of cute.” She reaches across the space between them and takes hold of Al’s hand, gently pulling her closer. “I know we’ve got to go do this, but I just… need to kiss you for a minute first.”

Exactly one minute later, Al sighs as she forces herself to put some space in between them again. “Ok, so you’re in charge of watching for and killing the dead.”

“Yep… unless it’s an emergency, you let me take care of them. And you do your car things,” she says to Al, smirking at her.

“Find a multimeter, then check the spare batteries for a match. And hopefully that’s it.”

They exit the MRAP and head to the door of the barn cautiously, shining their flashlights into the cavernous space. As Al goes to enter it, Madison throws an arm up in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Just listen for a second,” she says in a low voice. In the stillness they can hear it – the sound of the dead rasping and bumping into things toward the shadowy rear of the barn as they attempt to seek out the new source of light and noise at the door. It’s impossible to know how many there are, or exactly how long it’ll take them to navigate through the maze of farm equipment and assorted junk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are very much appreciated if you feel like leaving one, and I'll reply as soon as I can.


	11. To be seeing you after so long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Got it!” she calls to Madison.
> 
> “No, that was way too easy!” she replies, a note of surprise in her voice.
> 
> “Just got to get it out of here and into the MRAP. I’m gonna need you for that.”
> 
> Madison carefully walks around the half of the barn closest to them to make sure none of the dead are in their immediate vicinity.

“Alright,” says Al, “Let’s get in and out as fast as we can. Knowing they’re in here somewhere with us when we can’t see them creeps me out.” She shudders.

“It’ll be fine.You find us a working battery, and I’ll take care of the dead.” Regardless, Al has her trench spike in her left hand as she follows Madison through the dim interior of the barn.

Against the wall is a long workbench and branching off from the wall, about ten feet of industrial-strength shelving, forming a workshop area with a freestanding workbench in the center. Past it she can see several trucks, a tractor, and several other pieces of farm equipment.

After checking to make sure the small space is clear, Al sheaths her trench spike and shines her flashlight onto the pegboard mounted on the wall behind the workbench. The light dances over every type of tool imaginable, but no multimeter.

She hears shuffling, uneven footsteps, followed by more deliberate footsteps and the telltale wet crunch of a knife being jammed into a decaying human head. Al doesn’t even turn around, knowing she’s perfectly safe with the other woman keeping watch for her.

Trying to make as little noise as possible while still working quickly, Al starts going through the myriad of drawers under the workbench, looking for the device she’ll need to find out which, if any, of the batteries are worth hauling to Madison’s truck.

Six drawers into her search she finds an analog multimeter – perfect, since she doubts the batteries in a digital one would still be working. “Yes!” she says, a little too loudly.

“Got it?”

“Just the multimeter, not the battery. That’s next.”

Madison refocuses herself on the decaying creature approaching her, driving her knife into the skull through its ear.

“You still good?”

“Excellent.” She shoves the corpse away from her as she pulls the knife out of its head. "Not that I want to be in here for any longer than we have to… “

Al nods quickly and heads to the wall of parts. She quickly identifies a battery matching the size of the one under the hood of Madison’s truck.

By some small miracle, the multimeter indicates that the battery is not only usable, but that it may not have ever been used.

“Got it!” she calls to Madison.

“No, that was _way_ too easy!” she replies, a note of surprise in her voice.

“Just got to get it out of here and into the MRAP. I’m gonna need you for that.”

Madison carefully walks around the half of the barn closest to them to make sure none of the dead are in their immediate vicinity.

Her back turned to Al, she says, “We should be okay for at least few min—”

Madison’s words become a yelp as a set of hands grab her leg from under the truck directly in front of her. Landing flat on her back, wind knocked out of her, Madison is incapacitated long enough for the walker— no, two, maybe even three —walkers to get a firm hold on her legs.

Gasping for breath, she starts to fight back, kicking desperately with her legs as she grabs hold of the truck’s running board and tries to pull herself out. As much as she kicks she can’t free herself from their grasps, but her grip on the truck keeps her from being pulled further underneath.

Heart pounding out of her chest, Al maneuvers her way through the maze of discarded vehicles and takes hold of Madison’s forearms. But between the pain shooting through her wrist and her ribcage, and her weakened state from her week in recovery, she is unable to free the other woman from the ravenous dead.

Another walker approaches Al on her right, and she swiftly jams her trench spike into its head without fully taking her eyes off Madison. _Desperate times call for desperate measures,_ she thinks _._ A total cliché, but it’s true. She reaches for her rifle and takes a knee, thankful for the truck’s generous clearance.

“You have to stop moving,” she shouts to Madison, aiming her weapon, “I don’t want to hit you!”

Madison squeezes her eyes shut, willing her body to fight its instincts to keep kicking, keep trying to survive.

Holding her breath, Al aims with the utmost caution and pulls the trigger. The head of the biter on the left explodes in a spray of blood and brain matter. She hastily scoots over to aim for the one on Madison’s other side, this time missing the walker, but distracting it from trying to eat Madison’s hip long enough for her to pull herself out from under the truck. Al doesn’t miss her next shot.

Scrambling to her feet, Al slings her rifle over her shoulder and holds out a hand to Madison, helping her to stand. “You okay?”

Madison’s breath is irregular and her eyes dart around the room. She ignores the question. “We’ve gotta get that battery and get out of here.”

Al nods. “Let’s go.” She can feel Madison’s body shaking through their clasped hands, so she holds on tighter and drags her with her towards the shelves of car parts.

Between Al’s healing body and Madison’s current state of panic, it quickly becomes apparent that carrying the massive battery from the shelf to the MRAP is a terrible idea. If they drop it, they probably won't be getting this lucky aain. Al scans the area, looking for a cart, a dolly, anything with wheels to move it.

“There… the sled.” Madison points to the wall near the door, where a green plastic sled with a cord hangs from a nail. She rushes over to pull it down, and carefully, they lower their precious cargo down onto it. With Al pulling the sled and Madison pushing from behind, the battery easily slides out of the barn to the MRAP. Together they carry it up the back steps, latching the doors securely behind them.

Once safely in the van, Madison starts to fall apart again. Taking her by the shoulders and looking into her eyes, Al gently lowers her to one of the rows of seats lining the back of the van and envelops her in a tight embrace. Ignoring the pain in her own ribs, she doesn’t loosen up until Madison’s breathing steadies and her body stops shaking.

“Are you okay? They didn’t bite you… right?”

“I don’t think so… not hard enough to go through my clothes, anyway. I think my jeans are toast, though.” Madison gestures toward her lower legs, which are abundantly splattered with a darkening red. Hands still trembling a little, she leans over to untie her boots.

“Look at this.” There's an imprint of a full set of teeth marks on the ankle of her left boot. “An inch higher, and we’d be having a very different conversation right now.” She adds, a little quieter, "My kids would never know what happened to me."

Taking a deep breath and shaking it off, she stands and peels the sodden jeans from her legs, replacing them with the sweatpants that Al tosses to her. “That really sucks… these are my favorite jeans.”

“They’re your _only_ jeans.”

“Well... favorite by default.” Madison shrugs.

As they turn onto the highway from the ranch’s private road, they start to see the dead ambling, empty-eyed, toward the direction of the shots Al had fired.

Out of nowhere, Madison laughs.

“What?” Al glances at her from the driver’s seat, grinning. It’s good to hear her laugh.

“I told you finding that battery was way too easy.”

“You were right!” Al joins Madison’s laughter. As they quiet down, she adds, “Why have a sled in central Texas?!”

“Who knows? I’m just glad they did.” She reaches for Al’s hand, and Al meets her halfway, their fingers intertwining. “Do you know where you’re going?”

“For now, but I’ll need some navigation help in a little while to find your truck.”

“Hey, after we get it running, should we head back to that lake? We have to camp somewhere… might as well be somewhere nice and with a source of water.”

“Sounds perfect. But there's no way in hell I'm getting in that freezing lake with you this time.”

The battery install goes as smoothly as it possibly could, and soon Al is alone in the MRAP, headed toward the lake, followed by Madison in her newly-revived truck.

Al realizes she hasn’t driven by herself in over a week, and the solitude hits her like a brick. What used to feel normal, and even satisfying, is now leaving her feeling lonely and apprehensive. Now that Madison’s truck is operable, her leaving is very, very concrete, and the thought of leaving behind the partnership that the two women have been building is too much. Not only does she like the dynamic they have together, Al likes the person she's becoming with Madison. It's been ages since Al has let her guard down with anyone, but with her she feels comfortable being vulnerable, a softer version of herself. Tears spring to Al’s eyes, which she quickly wipes away.

 _This is your own doing,_ she reminds herself, _If you don’t want to split up, don’t. Go with her. It’ll be weird at first, but being without her will be worse. What other plan do you have? Spend the rest of your life alone, trading supplies you scavenge for interviews, eventually dying, alone, in some incredibly painful way and turning into a walking carcass? Stop crying, and stop talking to yourself for fuck’s sake._

Al decides to think it over a little more before bringing it up with Madison, but then realizes she’s already made up her mind.

This time when Al and Madison pull their trucks into the old campground near the lake, there are no dead wandering around. It almost feels like the time before the world fell, when you’d rough it for fun, and didn’t have to kill anything before building your campfire.

Al shuts off the MRAP and hops out. It hasn’t even been half an hour, but to Al it feels like she’s been apart from her for a lot longer than that. She jogs over to the driver’s side of Madison’s truck, catching her eye through the window as she shuts off the engine. Madison’s eyes light up and a smile grows across her face when she sees her. Al opens the door and takes the other woman’s face in her hands, leaning in to kiss her as Madison pulls her closer.

 _Yeah. This feels right,_ is what runs through Al’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting really close to the end. I *think* there's going to be two more chapters, but I'm a terrible planner!


	12. I'll (still) be here in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry... I just rambled on forever, and you were wanting to say something, too.”
> 
> “You know? I can’t even remember what it was now. I guess it wasn’t important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of sex in this chapter, so maybe don't read it while your homophobic grandpa is trying to look at it over your shoulder.

“What’s all this about?” Madison asks as she reaches up to brush away a lock of Al’s hair – the one that’s perpetually falling in front of her green eyes, almost emerald in this light, which are currently trained on Madison’s own.

Al shrugs, slightly. “Just felt weird being in the MRAP without you.”

It’s only been half an hour since they’ve seen each other, but kissing Al is something she always wants more of, so she goes with it. That same lock of hair has already fallen in front of Al’s eyes again. Madison ignores it, instead bringing her mouth back to the other woman’s. Oh god, how she’s going to miss this. Miss her.

True, she almost died a few hours ago. She’s been separated from her family for weeks. And soon she’ll be saying goodbye to this woman who might be her soulmate, if she really believed those exist. But in this moment she chooses instead to focus on the soft lips moving in silent communication with her own, the hands in her hair, the heartbeat she swears she can feel against her chest, even through their layers of clothing.

Someone’s stomach growls, and they both laugh. Madison pulls away. “We’d better get everything set up or we’ll end up in the dark with no fire.”

“…again, like last night.”

“Exactly.” Madison kisses her once more, then brings her palms to Al’s chest and playfully pushes her back. “Now move, so I can get out!”

A quick check of the area reveals it to be as free of the dead as it had initially appeared, and they get to work setting up their campsite.

Madison stands back to admire the small fire she’s built. “I’m getting better at this,” she remarks.

“It’s also a lot drier than it was last time,” replies Al who’s busy testing out the tautness of the trip wire she’s rigged a foot above the pine needle-covered ground. “Thanks for not destroying any of my books this time.”

Madison sneaks up behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist, kissing her behind her ear. “Trying to catch another girlfriend with that thing?” She anticipates another smartass reply, but instead gets sweetness.

“Nah. It already caught the only one I’d want.” Al turns around in her arms and grazes Madison’s forehead with her lips, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth.

Madison tightens her arms around her waist and presses her cheek to Al’s. “I’m going to get started on dinner.”

“Those might be the best words in the English language. Let me know if you need help with it, okay?”

Madison nods and turns away to head back to the MRAP. Al catches one of her hands, holding onto it until she’s out of reach.

Cooking a meal over a campfire, with limited utensils and surfaces to put things on, is both time-consuming and labor-intensive, but Madison is glad to have something to do with herself. She’s not sure what’s going on with Al, but she’s been sweeter, more caring, maybe a little sentimental. And it’s making it incredibly difficult for Madison to stay grounded in reality instead of imagining a future with her – one no doubt filled with walking dead people and dwindling supplies, but also love and partnership. She once again blinks back the tears that have been threatening to fall from her eyes.

After the day’s activities, it’s apparent that Al is at the point of healing where she’s almost fully able to take care of herself, and Madison knows she needs to move on in the next couple of days. If only she could stop time – to live in this moment with the other woman for even just a little longer, while not putting off the search for her family.

She’d sworn she wouldn’t push Al to change her mind, and as tempting as it is to bring it up, she won’t. Anyway, it’s for the best. Madison has a hell of a lot of fences to mend with her kids when she finds them again, and trying to do that while also nurturing a new romantic relationship would be disastrous.

Moments from the last few months flash in her brain – ones that she’s fought to stuff down. The fights with Alicia, the even worse ones with Nick. The truths that had come out about some of the darkest moments in her past. Her kids seeing what she’s capable of when at her absolute worst. And these were only the things that had happened _since_ society collapsed.

Even though the family had managed to come together when the dam fell, just trying to get back on their feet had taken precedent over healing their relationships. It didn’t change anything that had happened prior, or lessen the mountain of reparations she needs to make. She vows that if she can find them – no, _when_ she finds them, she corrects herself – the only things that matter are making amends with Nick and Alicia, and creating some sort of stable life for them.

She’s still lost in her thoughts, stirring the sauce in a pan over the fire, when Al stops on her way to the van. “Perimeter is secure! How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Madison lies, avoiding her eyes.

Al peers at her skeptically. “Okay. Anything I can help you with right now? Cooking? Get you anything you need from inside? Maybe you need a hug?”

Madison shakes her head. “Not right now, no. But thank you.”

“Alright. Let me know if that changes.” She looks concerned, but lets it go, squeezing Madison’s shoulder as she passes by. “I’m going to head down to the lake, but I won’t be there long.” A minute later she passes quickly by her again, carrying an armful of things. Madison doesn’t ask.

By the time Al comes back, the sun is just starting to set, and Madison is ladling red sauce into steaming bowls of penne. Al stops a few feet away, a smile breaking across her face. “You are seriously the best. This is, like, real food.”

Madison smiles to herself while she finishes assembling their dinner. “What were you doing at the lake? I thought you said it was too cold.”

“Oh, I assure you it _is_ too cold. But luckily, cold water is the best for getting blood out of fabric.” She holds up Madison’s jeans, still dripping lake water. “I think I got it all out, anyway.”

Madison looks up and turns toward Al, spoon still in hand, a look of gratitude taking over her face. “You were washing my jeans in the freezing lake?”

She shrugs. “They’re your favorite pair, so I figured maybe you shouldn’t give up on them so easily.” Looking around, she adds, “I need to hang them somewhere to dry.”

“We’ll do it after dinner. Just set them down for now.” Madison closes the space between them and throws her arms around Al’s neck. “That was such a thoughtful thing to do. Thank you.”

She smiles, color rushing to her cheeks. “It was nothing.” She suppresses a joke about wanting her sweats back. It has nothing to do with the sweats, and everything to do with making her sweetheart smile. “I was happy to do it.” 

The truth is, she’d be happy to wade into a freezing cold lake to wash walker blood out of denim, every day forever, for her.

The sun sets as they finish their dinner, pink and orange and yellow reflecting off the clouds that streak the sky. Al nests Madison’s bowl inside her own and sets them on the step behind her. She starts to get up, planning on dealing with dishes and wet laundry, but Madison takes her hand, pulling her back down next to her. “Just sit with me for a minute.”

Al gladly complies, putting her arm around her. She feels Madison’s body immediately relax against her. “Sunsets are one of the only things that haven’t changed since before,” Madison says. “I definitely appreciate them more now than I ever did then.”

Al nods. “I’ve realized I didn’t appreciate _anything_ as much as I should have, sunsets included. But we got to meet each other, and I doubt we would have before, so maybe appreciating sunsets isn’t the only thing that's better now.” Madison picks up Al's other hand and presses her lips to it. They sit in silence, watching the sun descend behind the trees lining the lake.

As darkness sets in, Madison puts more wood on the fire and Al strings up a makeshift clothesline close enough to the fire to hang Madison’s jeans. They settle down again, this time near the fire.

Both women start to speak at once. “Go ahead,” Al says.

Madison takes in a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my kids this afternoon. As I think I mentioned, I haven’t exactly had the best relationship with them.” She relays to Al just enough about their issues to get her point across. “I’m realizing how much I owe it to them to make amends, and just how much work that’s going to entail. And that it’s really for the best that you and I are going our separate ways. They’ve lost me to my romantic relationships before, and I have a pretty good feeling that if I showed up with you, that would be taking me a step past forgivability with them. And I mean, it’d be completely disastrous for you and me as well.”

She picks up Al’s hand again and turns her eyes to hers. “So I guess the point of this is that I just wanted to let you know we’re on the same page now. And I’m sorry I assumed you’d be up for joining me and getting mad at you when you weren’t. I hope I haven’t seemed pushy about it. I’ve really been trying.”

Al’s stomach turns as she tries to maintain a neutral expression. “Yeah. No. You haven’t been pushy. And I’m… I’m glad you’re okay with us splitting up.” No, she’s not. She turns her gaze back to the dancing flames of the campfire to hide her disappointment.

Madison searches Al’s face. “Well… good.” She pauses. “Sorry... I just rambled on forever, and you were wanting to say something, too.”

“You know? I can’t even remember what it was now. I guess it wasn’t important.” She drops Madison’s hand and pushes herself up from the ground. “I’m going in to get my gloves. You need anything?”

“Got an extra pair?”

“I was already planning on bringing them out for you.”

Their time together is running out. Will Althea let this totally destroy what’s left of it, or will she suck it up and make the most of it? With shaking hands she digs through her belongings looking for that extra pair of gloves, trying to swallow the massive lump in her throat before she rejoins Madison.

Coming up short on the gloves, she picks up a blanket and brings it out with her instead. She hands her only pair of gloves to Madison and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. “You’re gonna share that with me in a second.” She checks on Madison’s jeans, which are still drying, before she returns to the fireside.

Madison holds the blanket open and Al joins her. Deciding she doesn’t want to waste a single minute, she takes hold of Madison’s face in her hands and crushes her lips with hers, her upper body pressing down against Madison’s until she’s propping herself up off the ground with her elbows and Al is half-laying over her.

“Your hands are freezing. What happened to your—" Madison starts to ask.

Al shakes her head slightly. “Shhh. No more talking,” she says against Madison’s lips, probing for entrance to her mouth with her tongue and getting it immediately. She brings her hand down under the blanket to grasp onto Madison’s hip, pulling them as close to each other as they can get, pressing her thigh in between her legs. Al feels her draw her breath in sharply, and she increases the pressure until Madison moans in a way that drives her absolutely crazy. Smiling against her lips, she runs her fingertips over Madison’s hip and down in between her legs. Shortly after, she’s clamping her mouth down over the other woman’s to muffle her cries with kisses as she comes.

Overcome by the need to feel the Madison’s skin against her own, Al makes her way to her feet, pulling her up with her. Without saying a word, she leads her by the hand to the van.

On this night there is no double checking of locks or inventories of weapons stashed by doors. They barely get the camping pads laid out on the floor before they fall onto them, pulling their clothes off in between fervent kisses.

Again finding herself half-laying on Madison, Al pulls her face back for a minute to gaze into hers, momentarily falling into thinking about how this may be the last time they’re here together in this bed. Thankfully she’s distracted by Madison’s hand on the back of her neck, pulling her down to meet her lips again. She runs her hand down Madison’s body, cupping her breast, tracing the curve of her waist and her hip, down her outer thigh and back up her inner thigh to the wetness between her legs. Madison’s entire body reacts to her touch, causing a chain reaction of desire in her own. She lets her mouth travel down the other woman’s neck to her collarbone, stopping to spend some time licking and sucking her nipples before making her way further south. Both women let out a groan of pleasure as Al’s mouth finds its destination. Madison comes again less than a minute later and tries to pull Al up to kiss her, but Al is unrelenting, planning on staying exactly where she is for as long as possible, trying to memorize her taste, her smell, everything about her while her post-climax sensitivity wears off a little, and then bringing her focus back to her clit until she comes again.

After four more rounds of this, each a little more intense than the last, Madison takes Al’s face in both her hands, moving her out of the way as she presses her knees together and rolls over onto her side, sighing contentedly. Al moves up the bed and lies so they’re facing each other. Madison has a sheen of sweat covering her body and her hair is a mess and god, she’s so beautiful and Al thinks again about how doesn’t know how she can possibly say goodbye to her, and then Madison’s lips are on hers and the desperation in her kiss lets her know that she’s feeling the exact same way.

“I just need to breathe for a minute,” Madison says softly, going right back to kissing her.

“Mmm, but you’re still kissing me, so how are you breathing,” Al teases.

Madison nips playfully at her lower lip. “Maybe it was just that my clit needed a break. That was… I don’t even know what that was.”

“I could’ve kept going a lot longer...”

“Think I would’ve had a heart attack if you did.” They both laugh softly. “I just need a little time, down there anyway.” Madison rolls onto her back again, gripping Al’s hips, guiding her to straddle her. “God, I want you. Come here.”

A few minutes later, Al does come, there, on her face. Collapsing back onto the bed next to Madison, she buries her face in her neck and slides a leg over hers. Madison rolls over onto her side to face her and moves a leg over Al’s, tangling them together, wanting to be as close to her as possible. She pulls a blanket over them.

“We’re not done,” Al says into her neck, already yawning. “I just need a minute.”

“It’s okay.” Madison wraps her arms around her and kisses her temple. “Whatever you need.”

“I need _you,_ ” Al murmurs, “But I’m falling asleep, and I don’t want to waste the time we have left.”

“I’ll still be here in the morning. We’ll have the whole day together tomorrow, and tomorrow night.” She runs the back of her hand down Al’s cheek so softly that it barely makes contact with her skin. “But honey, I need to leave the day after that.” Madison’s voice breaks then.

Al lifts her face to meet Madison’s, just in time to see the first tear make its escape. As she kisses it away, her own eyes start to well up. She presses her lips to the other woman’s as their eyes spill over.

“It’s just not enough time.”

“I don’t think any amount would be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! I have to say, I've kind of surprised myself with how much I've loved this pair together.


	13. My aim is true

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al’s heart melts at the sight of the steady gaze and gentle smile aimed at her, and she wishes she could just grab hold of her and not let her leave. Not tomorrow, not ever. Instead, she gives her a coffee mug and a kiss, and suggests that they drink it down by the lake.

Al slams the doors of the van closed, kicks off her boots, and tosses Madison’s jeans to her. “Probably wasn’t the smartest thing, leaving the fire burning when we went came in last night, but at least your jeans are dry.”

Madison smiles at her as she steps into them. “This was truly a top-notch end-of-the-world romantic gesture. Thank you.”

Al grins back at her. “Really glad you appreciate it, especially considering I had to take off my _own_ pants and wade into the lake to do it.” She holds up a leg for dramatic effect. “It’s impossible to roll up skinny jeans! They had to come off, or they would’ve been soaked,” she explains.

“You are the best.” Madison kisses her cheek before sitting down to lace up her boots.

“I started heating up some water out there… you want coffee?”

“With you? Of course.”

Al smiles to herself as she pulls out her nearly empty jar of instant coffee… something that’s always at the top of her scavenging list, now that most of the normal stuff has gone so far past expired that it’s turned rancid. Instant isn’t great, but it also doesn’t seem to age.

She’s mixing the coffee into two blue enamel mugs with hot water, powdered milk, and sugar when Madison comes down the steps of the MRAP. Al’s heart melts at the sight of the steady gaze and gentle smile aimed at her, and she wishes she could just grab hold of her and not let her leave. Not tomorrow, not ever. Instead, she gives her a coffee mug and a kiss, and suggests that they drink it down by the lake.

It’s chilly, but the sky is a clear blue and there’s not too much of a breeze. Al takes Madison’s mug while she hoists herself up onto a boulder and then hands both mugs to her while she climbs up after her. They sit with their legs dangling over the edge, feet about a foot above the water.

“This is exactly the type of place we’d go camping when I was a kid. “

“Yeah?” Madison doesn’t want to pry – she doesn’t like talking about her own childhood – but that doesn’t mean she isn’t curious about Al’s.

“Yeah. Not when I was little, but after my parents got divorced and my dad got remarried and my brother was born, they’d take us on road trips in the summer. We’d camp, fish, go hiking… even when I was in college, I’d still go with them.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” Madison approaches the subject delicately. “It sounds like you were close.”

“I was twelve when he was born, so we never had that sibling rivalry thing happening… for some reason I loved to help take care of him when he was little, and then as he got older, I taught him to skateboard, dribble a soccer ball, draw superheroes. My mom was never happy that she didn’t get the kind of daughter she wanted, but my little brother thought I was pretty great.” She looks out at the lake, a wistful smile on her face.

Madison sips her coffee and doesn’t make eye contact. It’s obvious that Al doesn’t talk about herself much to anyone, and the last thing she wants to do is scare her off now that she’s opening up. She rests her hand on Al’s knee but says nothing.

“I came out to her when I was fifteen, not that it wasn’t already pretty fucking obvious. And she decided she ‘couldn’t condone my lesbian lifestyle,’ which honestly? Consisted of me brooding in my bedroom over girls who wouldn’t give me the time of day while listening to Morrissey, but whatever.” Al shrugs and smirks.

Madison laughs out loud at this. “Sorry to laugh. But I can see this in my head, clear as day.”

“Absolutely scandalous! But I went to live with my my dad and stepmom full-time, and they were amazing, and accepting, and supportive. Always. My mom died when I was twenty-one. That old Tegan and Sara hoodie I wear all the time, it was a Christmas present from her right before she passed… the only time she in any way acknowledged anything queer-related that I was into. So l’ll keep that sweatshirt until it disintegrates, because it reminds me that for at least a short time, maybe my mom accepted me. I owe _everything_ to my dad and Linda, but it’s still nice to know that happened at the end. You know?”

Al pushes her hair out of her eyes and shoots Madison an embarrassed smile. “No idea why all that just came out of me.”

“You your life's work has been gathering other people's stories, but you don’t ever share your own,” Madison observes.

“I guess I just don’t have anything to share that people would want to hear about.”

“I’m pretty willing to bet you do. You’ve been all over the world. You’ve interviewed I don’t know how many survivors. You drive a SWAT van, and I know that thing didn’t just fall out of the sky.” Madison bumps up against her shoulder with her own. "You have a lot to say… you’re just not saying it.”

“Alright, I think it’s time we go back to that whole “no names, no details” pact we made,” Al says, laughing awkwardly and bringing her hand up to push back the hair that hasn’t yet fallen over her eyes again.

“I think I started thinking about my mom when you were talking about your stuff with your kids yesterday.” She pauses. “All parents fuck up, but most of them won’t admit it. It’s so important to you to make things right with them. No matter what happened in the past, that’s going to mean everything to them.” She covers the other woman’s hand with her own and meets her eyes. “It says a lot about who you are. I really respect that.”

“I just hope I’m not too late. I’m trying to stay optimistic, but I do know that the odds of me finding them aren’t in my favor.”

“You’ll find them. I have a good feeling about it.” Al takes her empty mug from her hands and sighs. “You ready to go back?”

“Oh my _gawd_. I don’t want to leave this van again for the rest of the day,” Al says with a blissed-out look in her eyes, as Madison moves back up the bed to lay on her side next to her.

“I am completely okay with that.” She runs her fingertips up Al’s side from her hip, causing her to momentarily jerk away from her touch and laugh, which in turn makes Madison laugh. “You’re so cute.”

Al’s cheeks turn pinker than they already were, and Madison turns her face to hers and they kiss. “And then you blush, and it makes you even cuter.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have really bad taste,” Al replies, but she’s smiling as she goes in for another kiss. “Unlike mine, which is excellent.”

“Mmhmm… Yeah it is.” Madison kisses her again before moving back down her body, parting her legs again, kissing the insides of her thighs.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Al gasps as her kisses move inward. 

Just barely grazing the most sensitive parts of her with her lips, she murmurs, “You want me to stop?”

She does not want her to stop. So she doesn't.

Al lays on her stomach, the sheet pulled up to her waist. Next to her, Madison runs her fingers up and down her back, trying not to tickle her this time.

“’I’m a little worried that I’m going to forget you. Not forget _you…_ but forget how you are. How we are together. I don’t want to lose any of it.”

“Well, I don’t want to forget anything about _you,_ so I guess we’re even in that regard.”

“You have the interview tape of me, at least. I have nothing of you, except in my head.”

Al shakes her head. “Unh-uh. That absolutely doesn’t count. That tape is for journalistic purposes only. You were exhausted, sad, and pissed off in it.”

Madison laughs, and rolls over onto her side to face Al. “Don’t forget handcuffed!”

“They were zip cuffs! Totally different!” Her eyes go from playful to serious and she runs her hand over Madison’s hair, the flyaways giving off a halo effect in the light. “I’d much rather think of you like this. Messy hair, peaceful…”

“…exhausted again because we spent most of last night and today fucking, sad because I’m leaving tomorrow,” adds Madison.

“You look like absolute perfection to me. And I love hearing you say the word ‘fucking.’”

Madison isn’t sure what compels her to tell Al to get her video camera out. Maybe it’s the compliment, the exhaustion, the serotonin rushing through her body, or her emotions over it being the last day they may ever see each other. Probably all of it.

Al raises her eyebrows, thinking maybe she'd misheard her. “Really? You’re going to let me bring out the camera. Right now, while we’re laying here naked.”

She exhales. “Sure. Why not.” She smiles and leans over to plant a quick kiss on Al’s lips.

Acting fast before the other woman changes her mind, Al rolls over onto her stomach and pulls the bulky camera out of the unlocked safe. “Just want to remind you, this was your idea,” she says, ripping the plastic packaging off a blank tape with her teeth.

She hits the record button and aims it at Madison, who laughs and hides her face.

“Oh man, I cannot believe you agreed to this!” Al laughs, safely behind the camera. She’s thrilled.

“Me neither.” Madison tries to act put out, even though it was one hundred percent her idea.

“Okay, so what’s the point of this video?”

“You said you want to remember me, so here I am.” She glances down and cracks up again. “Topless.”

“Yes. Yes you are. And it’s making me think that maybe I should just put the camera away and—"

Al is cut off when Madison pounces on her, shouting triumphantly as she rises from their scuffle with the camera in her hands. She turns it on the brunette.

“How’s it feel now, being on the other side of the camera?”

Al looks down at her own body, a little too thin these days she thinks, and laughs. “Um… I think you’re a much better use of the tape.”

Madison shakes her head. “You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, and I am definitely going to need a copy of this tape. I'm getting hot just thinking about getting my mouth back on your—"

“Oh my god. Put the camera down and get your ass over here.”

Madison carefully sets the camera down on one of the benches and angles it so that Al is perfectly in the shot. And then she joins her.

“Maybe I should’ve specified for you to turn the camera off _before_ you got your ass over here.”

“Too late now,” Madison says, a smug look on her face. Straddling Al’s lap, she kisses her, savoring the sensation of their lips and tongues moving together.

“I had no idea this is what you had in mind when you said to get the camera,” Al murmurs, one hand on her ass, the other bringing one of her breasts to her mouth.

She starts to laugh, but it turns into a moan as Al’s lips close around her nipple. “I didn’t either. Just promise me you’ll keep this one _far away_ from your other tapes.”

Al has no idea what time they actually fall asleep, but when she wakes, the diffused light of a cloudy morning is filtering into the van. She’s curled up against Madison, her head tucked under her chin, their legs entwined as usual. She sighs, content, until she remembers that today’s the day. She’s leaving.

Suddenly feeling like she’s going to puke, Al throws on some clothes and heads outside. The nausea subsides once she’s in the cool morning air, only to be replaced with a deep sense of despair. Honestly, she would rather have the nausea back.

She knows she’s going to cry. Not subtle weeping – it’s going to be full-on ugly crying and there’s no stopping it. She heads down to the lake, ironically, to avoid the woman she can’t bear to say goodbye to. She climbs onto the rock they’d shared yesterday at the shore and the tears start to fall. Maybe she can get it all out of the way so she’s not a total mess when they say goodbye. _Nope… not a chance in hell of that happening._

Hearing the sound of feet moving on twigs and leaves behind her, she whips around to see who, or what, is approaching. It’s Madison. Al turns back around and hugs her knees. She feels a hand on her lower back, and one of her knives is set down on the rock next to her. Stupidly, she’d left the van without a weapon or even checking the area.

“Do you want to be left alone?” Madison asks gently.

Al shakes her head, still facing the lake. She hears Madison climb up onto the rock, feels her sit down behind her, feels her arms encircle her waist, feels her cheek come to rest against her back. Her breathing grows irregular and her body starts to tremble – telltale signs that she’s crying, too.

Al takes hold of her hands. “Geez, for two people who don’t cry a lot, we’ve both been crying _a lot_.”

“Some things are worth crying over, and you’re way up on my list.”

They go back to their campsite. They drink the rest of Al’s instant coffee. They eat breakfast by the campfire. They go back in the van. Al has always vehemently hated the term “making love” but there really isn’t any other way to describe the sex they have then. They get dressed and Madison shoves her few possessions into her backpack. Al sneaks in some extra pairs of socks, her entire stash of protein bars, and a couple of shirts, including the blue plaid flannel one that Madison has pretty much taken over anyway. She zips the tape inside one of the inner pockets. They go back to bed for another hour. And after that, it’s time for her to go.

Madison tosses her bag in the back seat of the truck and turns her attention to Al. Their arms automatically encircle each other. Al is a wreck; Madison is barely holding herself together. Their eyes lock on each other, and Madison flashes back to that first night in the MRAP, those moments of intense eye contact neither of them knew what to do with. It makes perfect sense to her now. She strokes Al’s cheek, pushes her fingers into her short hair, bringing their faces closer together.

“I—" she stops herself. And that’s when she starts to cry.

“Me too.” Al murmurs, tears streaming down her own face, still maintaining eye contact, pulling her even closer, smashing her lips against hers.

Saying it out loud would make splitting up a thousand times harder.

With the engine running, burning the precious diesel that’s growing harder and harder to find, they kiss some more through the open window of the truck.

“This isn’t it.”

“Can’t be.”

“I’ll find you.”

“We’ll find each other.”

One last, lingering kiss, and she’s driving away. 

Al stands there, hands shoved in her pockets, not knowing what to do with herself, long after the truck has disappeared from her sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I did warn you about the canon-compliancy in the tags, so the ending shouldn't have been _too_ much of a shock. I'm almost done with an epilogue, and will probably post that tomorrow. 
> 
> I have a couple of other FTWD fics started, and I really liked Al & Madison together, so don't be surprised if I end up writing a (non-canon-compliant) sequel sooner or later. 
> 
> Leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts! Also I'm on tumblr as rebecca-punch if you want to follow me on there.


	14. Epilogue: I guess she's out there somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is it this time, Victor? A broken window?"
> 
> “Graffiti, Madison. What does it even mean? None of it ever means anything.” He dramatically gestures to the brick wall.
> 
> What Strand sees as graffiti means everything to Madison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I posted the final chapter a couple of days ago, so if you haven't read it yet, go read that before you read this.
> 
> Also important: In Texan, “Bexar” (the county) is pronounced “bear” (like the animal). Part of this chapter won’t make sense unless you keep that in mind.  
> 

~~~ 1 week after ~~~

Al stares up at the roof of the MRAP. It’s getting dark and she can barely see it, but that doesn’t matter. She’s already memorized every detail because she’s been staring at it for the better part of a week now. Al hasn’t seen the point in leaving the campground by the lake since she left. She’s barely even seen the world outside the van anyway. She’s hardly eaten. She’s gotten careless about checking the perimeter, locks, weapons. She dug her old mp3 player out and has been listening to the same handful of songs on repeat.

_I know it's over, and it never really began  
But in my heart it was so real…_

Wallowing in her grief. Somehow it’s comforting, but she also knows it’s eventually going to get her killed. Not building her strength back up after her injuries. Eating so little that she’s dizzy every time she stands. Staying in one spot too long in a highly desirable vehicle. Having earbuds in all the time, knowing damn well how important it is to be listening for threats from both the living _and_ the dead.

Al thinks about how many people she’s met since the world ended, and how many of them she’s come across a second time. She can count them all on one hand. Her chance of finding her again is microscopic.

 _But,_ she thinks, _a microscopic chance is still greater than zero._

And so she starts getting her shit together again. Eating regularly even when it makes her feel physically ill. Spending time outside. Scavenging for supplies. She leaves the campground and gets back on the road, just because she knows it’ll be better for her mental health. It all feels like torture, but she does it anyway.

At some point she has to start feeling a little better, right? The enormous hole in her heart will start to mend, she won’t think of her every single minute of every single day, right?

_Where do you go with your broken heart in tow?  
What do you do with the left over you?  
  
_

* * *

~~~ 6 weeks after ~~~

It’s the middle of the night, and Victor Strand wakes up to the sound of the door softly closing. This has been a regular occurrence. Since she found their group a month ago, something about her has been off, and he’s determined to find out why.

He puts his jacket on and takes her sweatshirt from the end of the bed where she left it earlier in the evening. Sliding his feet into his shoes, he opens the door and looks out at the dark stadium. He spots his friend about three rows down from the top, and he drops down into the seat next to her. Tears glisten on her face in the moonlight. She doesn’t look in his direction or make any attempt to hide the tears, although she does put on the sweatshirt, and with shaking fingers accepts the flask offered her.

Picking up her other hand, he says, “Maddie, when are you going to tell me what this is all about? This isn’t the first time you’ve left our room in the middle of the night to come out here.” He pauses. “And it’s not just this. I see the distant look you get in your eyes, I notice your laser focus on any sound that comes through that walkie that _never_ leaves your body… you have it on you right now! At two a.m.! I see you constantly scanning the horizon every time we’re out there, and I know that it’s not just about watching out for the dead, because you just look too damn hopeful.

“Madison, what happened when you were out there?”

Part of her is dying to tell him all about her, but she doesn’t. And she’s not completely sure why. 

* * *

~~~ 3 months after ~~~

The last three months have been hell. The nightmares are back, and as bad as they are, it’s not much better to wake up from them alone in the MRAP. It’s been a cold and rainy winter, and she hasn’t had enough to eat or been warm enough in what feels like forever. And the loneliness has been unbearable. There haven’t even been many people to interview to break the monotony. Still, she pushes herself every day, to stay active and to stay alive.

The idea comes to her as she’s rummaging through the remaining goods in a small, dusty hardware store. Spray paint. Forgetting what she’d even been looking for, Al shoves as many cans into her rucksack as it’ll hold. She heads out the back door and around to the front of the strip mall. She doesn’t even have to think about it.

A bear. A heart. A bird with a broken wing.  
_Bexar. Loves. Amina._

It’s a longshot, but Al doesn’t know her real name and wouldn’t paint it all over Texas even if she did. But maybe she won’t remember the code names they’d used exactly one time on the walkies. Maybe she doesn’t even want to be found.

How would this help them find each other, anyway? Al isn’t sure, and she doesn’t want to think about it too much. Doesn’t want to risk getting her hopes up. _Even if all that happens is that she sees it and recognizes it, she’ll know that I haven’t forgotten her,_ she tells herself, _and that’s good enough_.

Everywhere she stops, Al paints the three symbols on a wall, a plate glass window, a door. Might as well… she’s got the paint, and it’s probably entertained at least a few other survivors, trying to figure out the meaning behind the three cryptic symbols.

She’s not going to get her hopes up.

God, she misses her.

* * *

~~~4 months after~~~

As Victor pulls into the parking lot of the library, Madison digs the list out of her pocket. Nick and Luciana’s books on agriculture are top priorities, but pretty much everyone has a request or two.

“I just don’t see why everyone still alive feels as though they must act like animals.”

Having heard this complaint from him many times before, Maddie chuckles to herself. “What is it this time, Victor? A broken window? Books ripped up, pages thrown everywhere?”

“Graffiti, Madison. What does it even mean? None of it ever means anything.” He gestures dramatically to the brick wall directly in front of them.

Madison looks up to see what’s got her friend so bothered this time, not expecting her heart to practically leap out of her chest. Luckily, Victor is already getting out of the car, checking around for the dead.

_Bexar, do you copy?  
I copy, Amina._

Madison has done a pretty good job of holding herself together over the past few months, during daytime hours, anyway. Things have been going great with both Nick and Alicia (despite Alicia refusing to share a room with her, which is how she’d ended up imposing herself on Victor). The settlement is a dream; they’re up to 32 residents now. Every bit of love and effort she’s poured into these parts of her life has paid off in spades.

During her long days at the stadium, Madison is so busy she sometimes even forgets to eat, but nighttime is a different beast. The minute she stops talking to people or building living quarters or trying to figure out how to fix a broken solar panel, she starts thinking about her, and once she’s in her head, she’s not coming back out for a while.

Last week she stopped sleeping in Victor’s room, but that was more so he’d stop complaining about her trying to spoon him in her sleep than anything else. (Guilty as charged.) It’s not nightmares that plague her – just the opposite, actually. Madison dreams of being with her again, of them being so incredibly happy together, and then she wakes up and she’s all alone. The same heartbreak, every night.

A bear, a heart, and a bird with a broken wing.  
_Bexar loves Amina._

What Strand sees as graffiti means everything to Madison.

Madison is pulled from her daze by his voice outside her window. “Madison, please explain to me why you bothered coming if you’re just going to sit in the car. At least give me the list.”

Her hands are trembling so hard she can barely open the car door. “Sorry… I’m coming. Just got really lightheaded all of a sudden. I’m on my—”

“And _that_ is exactly the kind of information you don’t _ever_ need to share with me, Maddie.”

Hiding a smile, she hands him the list and he stalks off. She’s bought herself a few moments alone to process.

_Bear loves Amina._

Madison and Alicia had been at this same library just two weeks ago, and that brick wall had been pristine. Meaning, she was in this very spot sometime in the last fourteen days. She’s still alive. She’s out there, somewhere.

  
Back at the stadium, Madison raids the maintenance room and comes up with three half-used cans of spray paint. She tosses them in her backpack and starts carrying it with her every time she leaves the stadium. Whenever she finds the bear, the heart, and the bird on a random wall in some small town, she adds a fourth symbol: a diamond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it! Thanks again for reading. I have some more FearTWD fics I'm working on, and might end up writing a sequel to this, so if that's something you're interested in, check back soon or subscribe on my [profile page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEndOfEverything/pseuds/TheEndOfEverything).
> 
> Songs quoted:  
>  _I Know It’s Over_ – the Smiths  
>  _Where Does the Good Go_ – Tegan and Sara
> 
> The title is taken from _Alison_ by Slowdive.


End file.
